Loki (fiorvalr) wrote in noexits, @ 2021-08-25 13:49:00 |
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Julia’s shade had been quiet in recent days. When she could be heard by her captor, there were tears. She didn’t know what to do. It felt lonely inside of Loki’s bag. At least in the Underworld, she would have found herself in Miss Persephone’s house with all the other shades, creating small miracles for the most in need; flowers blooming in hospital rooms, a twenty dollar bill on the sidewalk for someone unhoused, etc. Julia’s favorite miracles had been subtle coincidences. Perhaps that’s what the dream was, a subtle coincidence. Or, perhaps one of her fellow shades had taken pity on her from the Underworld. Or, her tiny sliver of being still had some magic in her yet. Whatever had happened, the Shade had managed to creep into Loki’s dreams and appear in human form. Though maybe twelve years old, her hair, eyes and nose were unmistakable. It was Julia Wicker. Or at least, a very fragile part of her. In the dream, the edges of Loki’s consciousness were long shadows, leading to a dimly lit stone hallway and platformed rooms with huge golden windows; a strange mix of ancient and modernity. On most of the platforms were strange men, their rooms were empty and white like the void of Derleth, all staring at the same point. Their faces were hard, judging. It took the shade a moment to realize this wasn’t an art installation but a prison. Loki had a cell to himself. Unlike the other rooms his was furnished with fine furniture, books, tables, a decanter of wine, lights. There was still an unusual amount of white, which made it look more like stage dressing. The shade, only a few inches shorter than Julia, stared at Loki, too. Without meaning to, her face hardened into the same judging expression. She waited to be noticed, a ghost in his dreams, and she started to wonder if he would be able to see her. “HEY.” The Shade’s hand balled into a fist and banged on the golden window. Touching it, it wasn’t glass but energy in the shape of intricate knotwork. It looked to her like magic, but she couldn’t be sure. “Loki. I need to talk to you.” Although it didn’t make the same satisfying noise, Julia’s shade attempted to bang her fist against the energy barrier again and again until he acknowledged her. There had been a time when Loki’s nights were seamless. Since his arrival in Derleth, however, sleep had been an elusive mystery to him. And once he had Julia’s shade in his possession it had become a thing that rarely resembled what he was accustomed to. Sleep came quickly, but a fervent disquiet throughout the night prevented him from gaining any valuable hours of rest. He, of course, knew that Julia’s shade was responsible for much of his agitated slumbers. Her shade and his guilt. But he still kept it to himself. Why he didn’t resolve the issue by simply returning the shade to Julia was, at this point, an enigma even to himself. Perhaps it was because he felt too much shame. The point at which he could have gifted it to her as the hero was long past. Then there was his own anger and temperament, seeking out a kind of one-sided vengeance for the night she stabbed him in the chest. This was the most traditional Loki reason of all the excuses in his arsenal. And then there was the memory of their walk on the beach. He’d asked her what she wanted most in the world. She didn’t hesitate in her answer. And the shade hadn’t been part of it. He tricked himself into believing that he was somehow helping her by keeping it. That he was protecting her from the pain she would inevitably experience by having that small piece of her soul returned to her. Lies, lies, lies buried beneath a thin layer of truth. The dream was picture perfect from his memory. Whether that had to do with Julia’s shade or simply his own active imagination was unknown to him. But when Loki opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of his former dungeon abode, it felt real. He could almost believe it was real. Except a tiny fragment of his rational mind knew that it wasn’t. But dreams were fuzzy about the truth. And while he knew it wasn’t real, he also knew that it was. As most dreams were. A voice called out to him and he rolled his head to the side from his lounging position on that bed. Crisp white sheets to match the whiteness of the prison cell. Only the ornately carved woodwork of the headboard distinguished itself. Well, and Loki himself, who was clad in his finest Asgardian leisurewear. Only the best for the second prince. Frigga saw to that. Just as she saw to all of his creature comforts. Odin be damned. Loki threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He peered at the little girl on the other side of the force field with a curious but irritated stare. Then he stepped closer to the barrier. Languid, elegant steps. More polished than he was in person. But this was how Loki saw himself in his mind. At least how he saw part of himself. The other part was a wreck behind the pristine illusion. There was probably something to be said of his psychological state that he hid his true appearance even in his dreams, but Loki found it best not to dwell on such trivialities. In time, the truth would out. “Julia?” He quirked a brow. In person he would have tensed, all senses at the ready for an attack. But here in his mind’s space, Loki was calm. “Come to gloat? Took you long enough.” Alone, her shade was intelligent and could think for itself. But it was also a collection of emotions and pain Julia had been so long without. The rashness wasn’t completely Julia. Her shade, who realized she was in Loki’s dream, hadn’t considered if he was lucid or not. This was her first opportunity to really talk to him, of course he had to be lucid. Unlike her shadeless counterpart, this one had a face that was expressive and easy to read. She was too small, too vulnerable to hide her thoughts or motivations. Gloat? That made no sense to her. Her eyebrows knitted together before deciding to ignore what she didn’t understand. “Let me go,” the shade said. To a deeply dreaming Loki, the words would appear to be in reverse. Loki was the captive and the young Julia was free to move where she pleased. “I could go back to my Julia or to the Underworld. Please.” She released her fist, pressing her hand flat against the barrier. This shade had lived another life, another set of circumstances. She should have known to be more careful. Shades had been used and misused by magicians before, valuable in their own right. She didn’t know what Loki wanted with her, but the shade was too earnest to act otherwise. It had never occurred to Loki, and this was absolutely a narcissistic oversight on his part, that Julia’s shade would have thoughts and feelings of its own. That it would be able to exist as a kind of singular entity separate from Julia. So when the shade requested her freedom, Loki was taken aback. He was also incredibly confused. And, it went without saying, extremely guilt-ridden. He did his best, however, to hide all of these emotions. But they were in his dream and some things couldn’t be as easily concealed. Because to conceal them from her would also require him to conceal them from himself. And he was only so self-deceptive when he was in a state of slumber. The unconscious was a difficult beast to control, after all. And Loki’s had been fighting for air for months now. This was finally its opportunity to show itself. Which was why his illusion faltered. His composure weakened and there was an obvious pang in his expression. Loki turned his side to her and walked the length of the force field. Again, that was also an illusion of sorts. That logical voice of partial wakefulness at the back of his mind was keenly aware that he could probably step through the barrier. Julia’s shade probably could as well. It was a dream. It was only as real as his mind made it. And in dreams the edges of reality and memory were always a little blurry. When he reached the end of the barrier he stopped, turned on his heel, and paced back to the center. Then he turned forward again. “I can’t return you to your Julia. Her instructions on that matter were explicit. It would only work if my Julia—” My. That sounded off-kilter when he said it. “—were to have you within her during the reset. There’s nothing I can do to send you back that way. Likewise, I wouldn’t even know where to begin about sending you to the Underworld.” Loki paused. “The only thing I could do is give you to the Julia I know. But…” He looked down at her, observing the more animated expressions in her face and wondering what they would look like on Julia. “But I don’t know if that’s the right thing to do anymore.” Her face fell. A fraction of a soul, she was all Julia’s hurt and so it was easy to hurt her. She was all Julia’s love and so at first, she didn’t think to question Loki’s assessment of what was right or wrong. She wanted to do the right thing. It wasn’t just that Julia felt helpless, she was helpless in this situation. So her eyes welled up with tears and she turned away from the barrier between them and sat down, hugging her knees to her chest to cry. She wore blue jeans, a pea coat and a white blouse. They had a first day at school look, as though the clothing had been chosen with care, because this was all of Julia’s ability to care, though strands of her hair seemed to fall and frazzle out of place. “You don’t want to do the right thing,” the shade accused. It was a hollow accusation. She couldn’t know what his reasons were, only that she wanted to say something. “If you did you wouldn’t have asked for me in the first place.” She thought it would make her feel better to talk back, but it didn’t. Her response struck his emotions quicker than he expected. Maybe it was because his mind was trying to process the possibility that none of this was real. Or maybe it was because he was more vulnerable in his own thoughts. A dreamscape of Loki emotions could have been a tumultuous battlefield. He suppressed so much during his conscious state that it was only in his dreams that he managed to actually express what he was feeling. Recently those expressions had been a little too overwhelming. Too demanding on his ever-weakening soul. Hence the short temper, the curt replies, the histrionics. She was crying and Loki felt a wave of shame and responsibility. And it didn’t help matters that the shade looked like a child. Although Loki never really shared his sentiment in public, he had a soft spot for sad and lonely children. He’d been one for most of his life, after all. Forgotten. Abandoned. Treated as the lesser of two sons. Stolen. Lied to. He’d done many unforgivable things in his life. Committed numerous senseless crimes. But knowing that he’d caused a child to cry was a few steps short of unforgivable to him. Loki pursed his lips. Then he crouched down in front of the force field. The magical barrier fluttered for a moment. It was unsteady. Just like Loki’s thoughts on his choices. “That’s not true. Not entirely. I do want to do the right thing. That’s why I asked for you. Because I thought it would help. I thought I could—” ...be different? Prove to myself that I’m a good person? Loki frowned. “I didn’t realize you felt this way. I didn’t think that you were conscious of being alone.” Which wasn’t really an answer to her predicament, but it was a step in making Loki rethink his reticence about returning the shade to Julia. “I wanted to give you to her. I really did. But it’s complicated now.” The shade was quiet at first, a bundle of nerves and heart beats. Though she wasn’t openly weeping or sobbing, tears still poured over her cheeks, making them feel raw. It was why she hadn’t turned to face him, so that he couldn’t see. It would have been easier if she could have been angry at him, but she was Julia’s empathy, her sadness. She had no real power to do anything but ask. “Complicated how?” The tremble in the shade’s voice betrayed enough of what she must have looked like. Julia would have accused him of lying, but her shade couldn’t. She was Julia’s innocence, and though she was in rough shape, there was still something there. An openness and capability of love and of forgiveness. Her expression softened, even when she didn’t want it to, and her eyes squeezed shut. Loki sighed. That was a good question. Better yet, it was a fair question. One that he should have posed to himself weeks ago. He thought long and hard before he answered, running through the possible responses in his mind. But they all felt unsatisfactory. They sounded more like excuses for why he wouldn’t give the shade to Julia and not reasons why he shouldn’t give it to her. Because I don’t know if she wants you. Because you will cause her pain. Because you might prevent her from completing her mission to kill the evil god. Lies. Well, white lies. But lies just the same. Even Loki knew those were the worst reasons ever. He knew the shade wouldn’t accept them. He couldn’t accept them himself. And this was the realm of his subconscious. Was he actually going to lie to her in his dreams? In a place where the truth couldn’t hurt him? “Because I’m selfish,” Loki said after a pause. “Because I had a reason for wanting to give you to her and that reason has been ruined. And I’m angry. And I’m jealous. I feel used and taken advantage of. And by keeping you I can keep some measure of control over the situation.” Control that Loki felt himself losing bit by bit every single day. “Because I’m the villain in this story. I’m the bad guy. And it’s too late. I waited too long to do the right thing. If I hand you over now then I’ve failed. And I know how horrible that sounds. No, I know how horrible that is. But this is the only power I have over anyone right now. And if I give you up then I have nothing.” Loki sat on the ground as well. He felt sick to his stomach. And it wasn’t until he wiped the back of his hand against his cheek that he realized he was crying as well. But he didn’t feel the tears fall. The shade turned her head, to look at him. Her intention had been to glare at him, but she saw his tears and she was stunned to silence, watching him carefully, trying to match up what he said with who he appeared to be. She sniffed, trying to keep the airways in her nose open. She could have insulted him, a part of her still wanted to, but most of her anger and venom came from Julia. She could have confirmed he was the bad guy, he still had her captive. Instead she asked, “What was your reason?” Was it just as terrible? Were his intentions always villainous? She couldn’t bring herself to be angry about it if they were. Just sad. She was, perhaps, sad for him, too. For her own situation in his captivity, and his inability to see his way out of not being the one in the wrong. “I did it because…” Loki trailed off, his thoughts trying to reason with himself for a clear and exact answer to her question. There were layers upon layers of explanations he’d used in his mind to justify asking the Lady of the Trees for Julia’s shade. But which one was the right one? Which one was at the core of his reasoning? Loki had avoided asking himself that for a long time now. In the moment, when he stood in the One Way Forest, it seemed so evident to him. Which was not to say that his motivation had always been altruistic or selfless, it never was with Loki, but at the time it had been clear. Now it wasn’t. Now he wasn’t sure if he trusted his own naivete. Perhaps he’d always been scheming. Julia’s shade was looking at him and Loki wiped off his face. Even the Asgardian illusion faltered a bit, momentarily revealing the blue skin of his true self underneath. Sad little ice child. And for a brief second he almost did become that scared little boy he was beneath his facade. That poor child self he hid from the world, even in his dreams. “I thought we were the same. I thought she understood me. That we had a connection beyond this realm. I thought if I brought you to her that she would like me. That we could be friends.” It sounded so simple and ignorant when he said it out loud. How could he, the God of Mischief, be so gullible as to not see the obvious? Julia couldn’t feel anything for him the way he might have wanted her to because Loki had her most intimate feelings in his possession. She only had the memory of those kinds of feelings. “And I wanted someone to see me as the hero. I thought it would prove that I’m a better person. That I’ve changed.” Loki’s frown contorted into a painful grimace. “Then she shoved a sword through my chest and I realized I haven’t changed at all.” Loki placed a hand to his chest, just left of center, where Julia had missed his heart. The reset made certain that there wasn’t a scar, but Loki was certain that if he removed his shirt in his dream that he would see an angry snarling gash where the Leo Blade pierced his skin and tore through his torso. “What should I do?” “You have to give me to her.” It was a child’s argument, you have to. Loki didn’t have to do anything, something that the shade only knew as the anguish on her face, even if she couldn’t name that truth out loud. “Please,” she said again. The shade raised herself onto her knees and pressed the palms of her hands against the energy barrier separating them. “She wouldn’t care if you were a hero or not without me. If you want to know if there’s a connection, then she needs me. And if she doesn’t want me, I can go back home.” That was the simple answer, wasn’t it? The reasonable answer. Just give the shade to Julia. Let Julia make the decision of whether she wanted it or not. Let her decide if she wanted to live with the pain that the shade would cause her. It didn’t belong to Loki, after all. As much as Loki sometimes believed it was his simply because it was in his possession, it wasn’t. The shade wasn’t an infinity stone. It was a piece of a person’s soul. Julia’s soul. Julia. A woman to whom Loki had felt something for a time. He didn’t know what that something was. He didn’t know if it was real or meaningful or measurable. He didn’t even know if he still felt it. But it had been something. And by withholding the shade from her he was denying both Julia and himself the opportunity of learning if there was anything beneath that feeling. The shade verified as much. And Loki didn’t think it was lying. Loki believed the shade. He trusted that it was telling the truth. But he’d trusted Julia as well. And where had that gotten him? He sighed. Then he raised a palm opposite hers on the energy barrier. He knew he could press through it if he wanted to. This wasn’t real, after all. This was just a dream. A dream in a memory. Not even a pleasant memory either. It made him feel callous and hollow. It was taunting. But this was Loki in his subconscious. Imprisoned. Forever trapped in a moment. The moment when he learned his mother died. The moment he learned it was his fault. His death at Julia’s hand was his fault too. In the same way Frigga’s death had been his fault. “Is there another option? If I can’t give you to her … Is there something else I can do for you? Someplace else I can keep you that’ll make you content? Or someone else I can give you to?” Because Loki was a coward and he didn’t know if he’d have the strength to do what the shade wanted. Hel, strength aside, he didn’t even know if he had the goodness in his heart to do that. Her face gave him all the answer he needed. Despair contorted the expression on her face the hardest. He didn’t need a knife to kill her, his questions, his hedging solidified the knowledge that she could not die or move on in this state. Pain was the next. The small replica of Julia’s hands slid down the barrier. It took seconds but felt like minutes in freefall, having no one to hold her or comfort her. Loki’s prison cell had seen to that. She shook her head, unable to form words. They’d been choked out of her at first, along with any sense of hope she might have had before entering his dream. She turned her face away from him, eyes wide with panic, staring at the dim hallway floor as though maybe it would have something for her. But the ancient stone had no words of wisdom, no real solace, only a flat surface to lay upon as the only real support she would receive. The shade felt like maybe she should have cried, but for some reason could not. Despondent. The shade was despondent. She didn’t know how long she laid there, silent. Perhaps she waited for him to wake up, so she would no longer have to face him, where she would be back in her own imprisonment; one that did not come with fine furnishings or books or food or drink. Maybe this was revenge for his Julia stabbing him. The shade didn’t ask. Knowing wouldn’t have helped her, in either case. “You’re never going to give me back,” she said. All Loki would see was the back of her head, her words mumbled. The shade didn’t move, staring distantly at a bleak future. It hurt Loki to see the shade this way. It hurt him because he didn’t see just the shade. He saw Julia. He saw a piece of the woman he thought he’d befriended. A piece he’d never seen before. This was the part of her that would have made her whole. And yet, Loki wondered, if Julia had her shade — if she was complete — would she have ever had any interest in him? Would she have sought him out time and time again? Would he have felt that brief connection? Or would they have been too different? It was selfish of him to even think about it. If he was her true friend he would have given her the shade, regardless of what that meant for their relationship. Although, without the shade, had they ever really had a relationship? Or had they simply been transactional for each other? That might have been closer to the truth. Because it wasn’t just Julia taking from him. Loki took from her as well. Only his motivations were less clear. Less obvious. The guilt he felt now, however, was very clear to him. Watching the shade lie on the ground outside of the prison cell, void of tears only because the capacity for sadness was outweighed by the depressing disappointment of his response, felt like a dagger in his chest. Not like when Julia stabbed him with the sword. This was more gnawing. Like someone was digging around with a blunt edge, trying to find that one singular nerve that would spark a reaction in him. The right reaction. Loki sighed and the forcefield fell away. Of course, it did. It was a dream, after all. Anything was possible. Just like Loki’s appearance, which stripped itself away from that subconscious illusion, and finally showed what he felt like he was underneath everything. Just a boy. Young and foolish. A boy who kept making the same mistakes. He climbed out of the prison and walked around the shade. Then he lied down in front of her. They were closer to the same size now. Possibly the same age, if one were to look at their faces. Loki still had that uneasy pout on his expression. And his eyes were just as sad as they were as an adult. Sad and a little scared. “I will give you back,” he said, less confident in his tone but more defiant. He reached out and placed a hand on hers, his touch cold. “And if I can’t … I’ll find someone else to do it for me.” The shade locked eyes with Loki, unmoving, for some time attempting to process his words. She slowly turned her hand in his so her palm faced up and she could hold his hand, giving it a squeeze. She wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t crying, so perhaps it was progress. “You have to promise,” she said. Her eyes grew wide and solemn as she spoke. It was the same level of sacred childhood seriousness reserved for secrets and dares— vestigial tests of honor and bravery most adults grew out of once they became too old and jaded to believe in such things. “Here, like this,” Julia said. The Midgardian pinky swear was the highest of all childhood oaths. Julia was careful to move and position their hands into the proper hold for a sworn promise. The rest of her fingers were curled in like a fist, and she ended the swearing with a kiss to her own hand, expecting him to mirror her with his own. Then she would know she could believe him, for she was Julia’s nativity and hope. No one would ever dare to break such a promise. Eye contact didn’t normally bother Loki. He was the king of the indomitable stare. But that was part of his facade. On the inside he was quite a bit more insecure. And when Julia’s shade held his gaze he found himself struggling to keep it. Perhaps because he knew she was nothing but the bare truth of herself in this form. Or maybe it was because this was the part of Julia he’d never seen before. And being confronted with her in this manner increased his shame. It was as though he were suddenly more cognizant of all his lies. All of them. Not just the ones he posed on purpose. Not just those meant to put on the guise of the God of Mischief. But the lies that made up the smaller aspects of himself. Like the fact that even now, lying beside her in the figure of a boy, he still wasn’t the real Loki. The blanched, pale hue of his skin said that much. If he were being truly honest he would have been blue. And his prison would have been made of ice. Loki frowned when she held out her pinky finger. This was a custom he wasn’t familiar with and he watched her demonstrate it with cautious concern. It felt like a trap. Like some kind of magical spell that might bind them. But he knew it wasn’t. And even if it had been, what would it matter? They were already bound to each other. They had been ever since Loki took her captive and never gave her up. He hooked his finger around hers, the rest of his hand balled in a nervy fist. Then he bent his head forward and kissed his own hand. Why did that feel so intimate? Loki looked back up into her solemn eyes and exhaled an icy breath. “I promise.” |