Orb ; rebirth decline 8

[sorcerous]

Heroes; to me.

[ His skin is blue and his eyes aglow with red; he has disregarded his glamour entirely. He has learned, now, that his Role has changed overnight, and that he will have to relearn all he once knew, as far as his sorcery mixes with this place.

There is a tightness to his tone, a firmness, a dignity and an urgency. Not the sharp-tongued princeling, at the moment. ]

We face destruction, lest we act. To me. I am [ address of an apartment, rooms that he has rented from a recalcitrant landlord for a week or so ]; respond, or come to me if you are willing.

[ His urgency is a bit hypocritical; after all, he delayed because of his own problems. Nonetheless: he can delay no longer. The Hero of the Mountains is here, and she must be killed. ]

Comments

[sorcerous]

Loki rolls his eyes heavenward. What he would give, right now, to be among the ladies of Asgard -- the ones who speak swiftly and intelligently, who lie with batted eyelashes and deflect with more skill than any warrior with a sword.

"Warriors," he sighs. "Spare me."

When had it begun? -- Likely, when Loki had pleaded for death and she had refused. When the shadow of a memory (we were once companions) had defeated the blood stained into Loki's hands.

[thoreal]

"That is not what I am asking," he presses, ignoring Loki's exhortations. "As you well know, Sif."

Thor, too, has never been blessed with a fine sense of tact or diplomacy, and certainly not the kind of fine barbs that Loki likes to throw around. He is a hammer, not a scepter. But... so is Sif.

[sorcerous]

His glance turns to Sif. He is turned away from the both of them, and his eyebrows rise.

"Yes, Sif," he agrees. "Do tell us. How long has this been happening? When did it begin?" A beat, then: "Why did it begin?" A voice that's soft and sly, and too smooth.

[brosif]

Of all the matters for the sons of Odin to present a united front. Though Loki's query certainly has nothing to do with unity -- like many things with him, she suspects it is a test. She does not care to be tested.

She catches his eye, angry at being left unsupported. It is not for her benefit that she was holding her tongue.

Fine, then. She looks to Thor, hesitancy gone.

"Weeks. At my initiative."

[thoreal]

Weeks? "Yet you told me not," he replies instantly, and this is to the both of them. "Why was this kept hidden?" He might have celebrated, after the initial confusion... He might, still, but at the moment, it's clear the betrayal is overtaking.

He is a hammer, and so is Sif. So why is it Thor who bears the wounds of Loki's claws, when Sif is allowed so near?

And maybe there's a part of him that says, too: he is the hero, and the secret he is keeping on Loki's behalf is consuming and murderous. So why are they -- why is she -- keeping secrets from him, too?

[sorcerous]

He eyes Sif, still uncertain, still blank-faced. He does not know if he is satisfied.

"And when, in the hurried moments since your arrival, was there a chance for me to say?" asks Loki. He had not expected Thor to look so hurt. It is a thing that Loki himself has difficulty facing, fully, let alone speaking of -- and he supposes, evidently, that Sif did not want to speak of it, either.

He could say -- we were in a new place, and I suppose she took solace in the familiar, and I, in an ally where there should not have been one.

He moves, then, to defend her. With reluctance. But perhaps he has committed himself to it.

"Sif has no gift with words, not as I do," he coaxes Thor. "Nervous of your reaction, and preoccupied with the dangers here; is it any wonder there was no chance to say?"

[brosif]

She is not satisfied. She is well angry at the both of them.

That Loki defends her now doesn't negate that he put her in the positioned to be questioned, earlier. Just to see what her answers would be, she suspects.

That Thor is so clearly hurt fills Sif with a keen sense of guilt. But her anger -- his presumption -- splits the difference.

"Loki, you wished for me to answer. To test me. Did I pass?"

Eyes sharply, upon her lover, before turning to Thor.

"I told you not. My relationship, my heart, is not your business, Thor. I have sworn my fealty and friendship to you, gladly. I would do so a thousand times over. But you have no kingdom over that aspect of my life."

[thoreal]

In the hurried moments since your arrival. Were Thor more like his brother, he might sneer at that; as it is, he growls low in his throat. Does Loki mean all the hurried moments he spent avoiding Thor, perhaps?

Sif's anger, too, only aggravates his own. He moves closer to her, further from Loki, lowering his voice intently. "You know that is not why I ask," he mutters, a mountainous rumble, like thunder, like a coming storm. For all the pain he has put into trying to reach out to his brother, all the time and energy -- for all that she knew of this, and she did not say a word?

He looks at them both, and for the first time, for half a second, he thinks he understands what Loki must feel like, doubting, mistrustful. Then he gathers himself together and stalks away from them both, his back to them. "Tell me of the Hero of the Mountain," he says sharply. "Tell me of your war."

[sorcerous]

Loki's breath rushes in. Thor looks untrusting, cornered. He thinks -- this might be enough to make him understand. This might be enough to show Thor how it has always been for Loki.

"I will tell you everything," he says, a startling and frightening promise, "if you tell me what you have kept back, Thor." If only he knows what's happened in the gap between their times.

[brosif]

She and Thor have always quarreled poorly -- they are both quick of temper, and slow to civility. His anger incites her own, and she crosses her arms over her chest, intent on saying nothing until he makes some show of restitution (Her anger, now, is rooted in the fact that she knows she has hurt him).

But Loki's query breaks the cycle.

Shock, again, and she looks to both of them with concern. It has clearly been a burden on Thor, whatever knowledge he has. But the fact alone that he has decided to shoulder such a burden proves that it must be with good reason.

[thoreal]

That brings Thor up short as well, surprise as much as anger stiffening his posture. He glances sharply back over his shoulder, and this time, there are no shared looks with Sif, no silent exchanges. They have never spoken of what she does not know, not truly, and he has told her nothing, but he knows she knows there is a great deal there. Enough that she has not pressed him.

But now, he finds himself wondering why she has not pressed. Out of the same concern as he has... or because she does not want to know the truth?

One thing he still knows, though, is that he does not want Loki to know it. However hurt he is by this, that is more important. A king-- There is too much at risk if Loki's mind should fall that way again.

"Tell me about the Hero," he says again, flatly, finally, looking away.

[sorcerous]

"Get out," says Loki.

It is flat and unequivocal. And calm, too, much to his surprise. It seems calm is too often beyond his reach, these days.

But he will not tolerate this. Thor knows too much that he is not telling. He is acting not as Loki's brother, not as that long-distant beloved companion, but as that creature Loki detested -- the one who believed himself fit to be King, who thought himself better, who would discard Loki in an instant if it suited him. Who would run to his mortal whore rather than stay by the throne. Who believed that nobility raised him above his brother.

Now, there are those here who know more of Loki than Loki knows. They know a future of his, and regardless of that woman's minced words, he knows she is from his future, Thor's present. She must be. Loki cannot remain ignorant.

"You would have love bind us tighter than blood," he tells Thor, "and then you spurn me. Get out, and return with the rest of the heroes. I will give you no more."

Jumpin'~

[thoreal]

"No," he refuses, just as unequivocally, and now he is prepared to argue on this -- he knows the argument is coming.

He wants to turn, to let the heat rising in his blood take over, but he wills himself to take on some of Loki's coolness, going instead to the window. "I spurn you not, brother," he grinds out, takes a deep breath, tries to bring his voice to the same calm. "I never would; say what you will. But there are great and terrible things at stake now."

And one of them, he thinks, is you.

"If you do not want to tell me about this--" The word is charged with more than he would have it be-- "Then tell me why you wanted me here in the first place. Tell me of your battle."

Re: Jumpin'~

[sorcerous]

"You do," denies Loki. "You knew I was alive, and your silence speaks -- it shouts, loud as a town crier, that what you know is worse than what I have done. So, what was it, Thor? What did I do, that was worse than slaughtering Jotnar, destroying a Realm? What is worse than killing my sire? Than spilling your blood upon the Bifrost? Do you think I have not endured pain after pain for what I have done?

"You must think me weak as a woman, and docile as a lamb, and ever-so-eager to have you save me. Out," he snarls, "or I will boot you from that window myself."

[brosif]

Sif watches the quarrel between brothers silently, for there is little else she can do. For all of the trappings, all of the horrible things that have and will happen -- at the core of it, this seems a fight between brothers. She cannot imagine any sort of good that would come from wedging herself into that.

If there were a way to leave the room without drawing attention, she would most certainly do so. At it is, she stands against the fireplace, expression even. Already knowing none of this will end well.

[thoreal]

He gives in. He is not good at self-restraint, and with Loki pulling at his nerves, he is as short-tempered as ever. Even now, he begins to realize, Loki inflates himself -- Jotunheim was never completely destroyed, the Allfather never murdered, save in Loki's mind. Thor has had enough with fighting this kind of battle.

He turns, finally, from the window, and the smile on his face is one they both will recognize well. "You can try," he challenges.

[sorcerous]

A challenge, is it?

Loki will not back down.

His teeth bared in a snarl, he lunges at Thor, his momentum more than enough to push them both through the old wood and glass and out the second-story window.

Loki has his strength back. He does not fear the impact below.

He does try to avoid the pig-pen immediately under the window, however.

[brosif]

Truly? Truly?

"You are children no longer!"

[thoreal]

Too late, Sif. The two go tumbling through the air, locked together, and crash into the street below -- albeit thankfully beyond the pig-pen. Although Mjolnir hangs from its place on Thor's belt, he does not reach for it now: this is not that kind of fight. At least, not until Loki brings out one of the hidden weapons Thor guesses, from hard-learned lesson, he may be carrying.

No, this is much simpler than that. On his back, he growls like a wild animal and smashes his fists into Loki's gut, kicking out with his legs to try to displace his brother. He is not thinking clearly, has not yet remembered what Loki's skin might do to him like this. He just fights.

[sorcerous]

This is not a fight for subtlety. Not a fight for knives -- he is here to hurt Thor, to bruise and break. Loki's rage is clear in his eyes -- anger twisted by hurt and by pain. Thor's blows land, and Loki falls back into a stall, collapsing it.

There are shouts, running feet, and no doubt a few of them stopping to watch.

He twists around and aims a kick at Thor.

Loki does not hold back in brutality. Whatever hits he can land, he will, no matter what is crushed in his way.

[thoreal]

The street, their surroundings, are forgotten, although Thor will greatly regret this later. For now, he, too, is angry and hurt, and while the feelings themselves may be lesser than Loki's, they are compounded by his blinding exasperation with his brother: that he cannot, will not, willfully refuses to see all that Thor tries, and tries, and tries again to offer him.

The effort of trying to protect Loki this week is fraying him badly. If he will not be reached with words, perhaps -- and this is Thor's most irrational bloodlust speaking -- this is the language that will reach him.

He takes the kick in his side and goes crashing back into a sea of passersby, who hastily part to let him in, then retreat back from the demigods. Thor charges forward from the ground, and now the battle is on. His fists are like hammers themselves, driving at Loki's soft spots.

[brosif]

There is commotion enough in the street. Some villagers flee, while others watch the fight from a distance that they judge to be safe. But the roads here are built for the strength of men. Not gods. If the sons of Odin forget themselves, there may well be no safe distance.

Sif rushes down to the street, grabbing her sword as she goes.

...the trouble is, she has no idea who to use it on. Thor has better command of his strength. Loki's touch burns. They are both idiots.

"You must stop this. We are in Asgard no longer."

[sorcerous]

He does not stop. He will fight until they are both exhausted or until Thor stops him, or until his rage is spent -- and his rage is never spent.

Splintering wood, broken bricks, destroyed stalls. Sif's cries. He pays attention to none of them, devoting his mind to the act of flattening Thor's nose bloody.

[thoreal]

But Thor does. One of Loki's fists misses his nose and drives into his ear. He staggers back, clutching the side of his head, but in the sudden ringing and cessation of violence, he suddenly hears Sif's voice as he did not before.

He looks around to see the street already in tatters, the townspeople looking on in awe -- but also in increased terror. He grits his teeth.

Loki is still coming at him, furious and bitter, but Thor realizes it's time to play the big brother again. He grabs Loki's wrist and pulls hard until he gets the young frost giant into a headlock. His skin is cold, numbingly cold -- but it does not actually hurt, and though Thor tenses when he feels the telltale chill of a frost giant, he finds he does not need to let go.

"We'll stop this," he mutters into Loki's ear. "There are people here. You would be a hero?"

[sorcerous]

He is tense, rigid in Thor's hands, not relenting and not fighting. He hates being touched this way. He hates being this way, and Thor's hands burn on his skin, heat so searing that it is painful.

"I destroyed nothing here until you came," hisses Loki. "I hurt no one until you tempted me to it. Remember that, Thor. Remember."

It is not perfectly true, but it is not entirely false, either. And Loki knows that these are words that will sting.