|ᛚᛟᚲᛁ has a silver tongue. (the_trickster) wrote in avengers_logs,|
@ 2018-03-13 19:19:00
|Entry tags:||-complete, loki odinson, thor odinson|
Who: Thor, Loki
What: Healing and finance.
When: backdated to Saturday/Sunday night-ish, after Valkyrie's visit.
It hadn't taken long to make his way over to Darcy and back again, warding her new apartment and throwing up what was the magical equivalent of an alarm system. Then it was back home again. By the time he arrived and was stalking his way up toward their room while shrugging off his overcoat, Loki's hair looked windblown and the normally faint lines on his face seemed firmly etched in place. He needed to eat and sleep and recharge, but there was much left to do and no rest for the wicked.
He knocked on their door and called out, "May I enter, or are you doing anything that would give me cause to stab my own eyes out?"
Thor had no idea what that would be. Valkyrie had left a short time ago, and he’d replaced the bandage well enough. Maybe it was a little loose around the edges, but surely it wasn’t meant to be a real barrier to anything in particular.
“Enter,” he called out, though not as loudly as he would have before. Taking in a deep enough breath to properly bellow was not that easy.
Loki opened the door and entered, throwing his coat aside onto a chair and coming close to the bed to get a better look. It didn't seem like any rough housing had gone on, which was a relief. Then he went to inspect the damage, and was flipping a fingertip against the loose tape.
"You could not resist showing it off, could you?" he chided, summoning the aid supplies again. He made quick work of trying to mend things further and changing the bandage, before sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Eir always said you were her worst patient. I am not leaving your side until you are properly healed."
“It is a mighty wound. The scar will be impressive. And showing it helped… the situation.” He still wasn’t’ sure how else he could have soothed the Valkyrie’s self-recriminations. “I knew you would return to put it to rights, Loki,” he said with a big smile.
Loki exhaled out his nose and shook his head. He magicked off his shoes and changed his attire into something far more comfortable to lounge in, a long tunic and soft pants, and laid down while facing his brother, poking a finger near the bandage. Not on it, but near it.
"How could I not? You would be out bounding around, trying to get yourself shot again, you jovial imbecile. I am trying to keep you alive."
'In more ways than one,' he thought to himself, smiling at Thor to make it seem as though it was only lighthearted jesting.
For some reason it reminded him a little of when they were very young, before they had any idea that Loki was adopted. They would often sleep in the same bed for no reason but to talk late into the night when they were meant to be sleeping.
“I am not ready to bound just yet, brother, but soon. I mean to find them and make sure they cannot harm another.” It had been a long and somewhat uncomfortable day, and he could feel drowsiness coming upon him. Thor tended to speak more plainly when he was tired. “Will you help me, Loki? We cannot allow such a threat to menace us all.”
It reminded Loki of that too. He would often sneak to Thor's room behind the guard's backs. How long had that gone on? Years upon countless years, until he grew too jealous and too secretive and kept to himself. This did feel just the same as it had before, like no time at all had passed. He was stretched out on his side in much the same manner, half of his face hidden in a pillow, his lips very near the top of Thor's shoulder while maintaining just enough distance between them that it didn't seem somehow intrusive.
Loki could tell that Thor was weary, and the same weariness felt like it was almost finished weaving a fuzzy cocoon around him. He was trying to remind himself that he should mind his words more than before. But between the emotional drain of Thor being shot, creating a path, and expending so much magic trying to mend what didn't seem to want mended? Loki's voice was a softened murmur and his eyes felt better closed than open.
"Soon, you will be bounding as boisterously as ever," was his reply. "And I do suppose that I could help? Although I wish you would realize...not all of my tricks are ill conceived. More lures mean more opportunities to catch this coward." He closed his eyes for a moment and it almost looked like he was asleep before he whispered, "This is not a true threat, Thor. Merely a minor menace. It shall be quickly dealt with."
Thor was not sure that Loki believed that. His brother seemed particularly worried. In a way, it was reassuring. He felt that his faith in Loki was not misplaced. They were the only family each other had left, and even if they were not related by blood, they were brothers. Loki had Thor’s loyalty, regardless of what he’d said before Asgard was destroyed.
“I do not think your tricks are ill-conceived. I think your illusions can be an important tactical asset. I am not opposed to deceiving our enemies. I am only opposed to affixing an additional target on the backs of Lady Sif, Valkyrie, yourself, or anyone else by disguising them as me. Create as many false images of me as you are able.” It was a point he was not willing to negotiate, and he knew that Loki was being just as stubborn. Blood relations or not, they had that in common.
Thor's words sunk in, and Loki drew in a deep, slow breath. He wondered if Thor would think otherwise, if he was told of the Tesseract or with what happened to Darcy. He pondered that until it seemed as though he had nodded off to sleep. The room suddenly filled from wall to wall with innumerable illusionary Thors. The sound of it was like a tavern brawl after a rousing battle. One Thor on the far side of the room looked like he was trying to scale the wall and doing an astoundingly bad job of it.
Loki peeked an eye open and his lips were pulled into a wide smirk. He raised a hand to snap his fingers - once and only once - and the Thors fell silent.
"Deception is what I do best," Loki said, and that statement was painfully true. As was the next. "My concern is for my brother and king. Mother not only taught me spells, but told me as the younger son that I was meant to advise you. Will you let me cloak you in invisibility, so you not wounded again?"
Loki rested that raised hand down on Thor's shoulder to give him a gently consoling pat. He didn't want to lose his brother either, and it was one of the main reasons he was trying to keep this stupid miserable realm safe.
When the room filled with counterfeit Thors, he smirked at Loki’s peaceful expression. “You are undoubtedly very clever, brother,” he said dryly. It was amusing, but he had grown wary of laughing because of his injury.
He wasn’t sure about being invisible, though. “I appreciate that you have my safety at heart. Do you propose that I am invisible while a fake version of me draws them out?” he asked. He could see the wisdom in that. It could work. Loki’s touch was comforting, and he felt a great affection for him, lying there side by side and reminiscing about simpler times.
Loki left his hand on Thor's shoulder, although he seemed to be very awake for the moment. Thor was profoundly important to him, even when they bickered or fought. It almost seemed that if they were without one another, his reason for being was somehow lessened. There were other reasons to exist, certainly, but Thor was a huge factor in his life and one he wasn't ready (or willing) to lose.
"That is what I propose. I will simply shift into being someone else, and accompany your fake. If you are cloaked, then no one will be the wiser if you walk on the other side of me. It is a clever ruse, if they choose to make another attempt."
Loki propped himself up on his elbow, to get a better look at Thor. He might be tired, but the thrill of a clever ploy was more effective than what was served at Starbucks. He waved a hand and all of the Thors disappeared.
"Now that I have you as a captive audience, perhaps the King might wish to hear my clever plan to fill our coffers."
Because Loki had adopted the phrase 'bitches gonna get cut' for the precise moment he wasn't able to afford Starbucks, Ben & Jerry's, and Pop Tarts.
Thor gave Loki and indulgent smile. “By all means. You have my full attention, brother. What is this scheme to build our fortune?” he asked. He recalled that Loki had suggested he charge people for photographs with him at one point, which seemed unnecessarily degrading to him at the time. Now it was downright dangerous.
He was a little drowsy, but not enough to fall asleep yet. He was enjoying Loki’s company, particularly while he seemed to be putting forth such an effort to coddle and please him for a change.
Enjoy it, for Loki's moods were as fickle as an ever shifting wind and he was selectively sharing his ideas. After all, he wasn't sharing what he had done recently, why Darcy was no longer living there, or where he had been going while leaving illusions of himself lounging around at home. He was glad that Thor was weary, because that meant those things would be left unnoticed and unmentioned. Even this unsettling event was an opportunity for distraction.
The plan, however? Was legitimate. And Loki looked delighted.
"There are many lost treasures and relics in this world," he said. "I have researched the lore and scoured their wikis. I have the means to locate it. So I propose an adventure to reclaim them, for they are quite valuable. Some are priceless. Many collectors of relics, or treasure houses that put such items on display, would pay unimaginable amounts of coin for the reclamation. It would fill the coffers quickly, and we can afford to make the new Asgard a reality. I have spoken to Sif already, and she seemed amiable to it. I meant to speak to you as well, but my timing was not fortuitous."
Loki glanced down at Thor's side, then back up at his brother's face. His expression was guarded, but still hopeful. He'd put much thought into that which would be considered legal. He hoped Thor would not find fault in it.
Thor let Loki’s words sink in for a moment. On the one hand, it seemed like stealing Midgard’s treasures to sell back to them, but they might never have them otherwise. It would be providing a service in a way. And they did need funds. “I would agree on one condition, that you only seek reasonable recompense for such items. It would be wrong to deliberately inflate the price based on our enhanced abilities to find such items.” He was certain that Loki would balk at his condition, but he was not opposed to them making money, even a great deal of money.
Loki balked only a little bit, while weighing out his options. Naturally, Thor was going to be inclined toward morality and do-gooding, while Loki was more concerned about their personal livelihoods and future needs. And perhaps to prove to Darcy that he could do impressive things without lying or backstabbing. If there was any possibility of a future to partake in, he meant for them to live in comfort as most Midgardians seemed inclined to do. He had been thorough in his research, and he knew there was generous recompense in returning lost treasures.
"I can set you at ease," he said, smoothly and without rancor. "I have looked into this matter. The permits are far more rudimentary than our trade treaties once were. I could fill them out as I slumber. Many countries own the rights to such treasures, but will pay what is known as market value, which can be in the millions. When applicable, I will negotiate for the standard worth for such items. We may also take requests to reclaim particular Midgardian trinkets. Many would pay to have the mighty Thor to go on such adventures. And it would only take two of us at a time, to do so.
"Unless you wish me to sell the few heirlooms I would rather not part with? Our funds will be depleted in a little over one month's time. I paid the ridiculous cost of breaking a lease, whatever that means. And we are feeding three Asgardians. This is the best option. All shall benefit from our involvement."
He did not count himself in their number. A fact that still felt like one long, slow twist of a knife. Loki tried to ignore an old emotional wound, while hovering his other hand over Thor's side where an actual wound was, trying to mend more of the damage.
Thor caught the inconsistency. “Four Asgardians,” he corrected. Regardless of Loki’s origins, he was one of them. He was of Asgard. He was a prince of Asgard. “Very well. We may find artifacts for fun and profit,” he said, repeating a commercial he’d heard about flipping real estate, whatever that meant.
Loki was glad for the approval, but his brother must have been truly bored to watch infomercials. As for Thor's correction, there was only the fleeting glimpse of a tattered smile. He didn't argue the point. But in his mind, there were only three true Asgardians left on Midgard. He still believed himself the monster of children's tales. The Jotun that froze Asgardian children, then devoured them whole. It was a stigma that was hard to forget.
He hesitated before pulling his hand away. There was longer any need to continue to mend what would heal in the next day or so. He knew that Thor was more perceptive than he let on, and probably knew about all the sneaking around. But for some unfathomable reason, his brother said nothing. Everything Darcy mentioned about trusting others was gnawing away at the meager remains of his conscience. It was better to err on the side of caution, and leave further inquiries for another time.