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Some talk of characters death, mentions of murder
The void was just as uncomfortable as she remembered it. That feeling like you could walk for hours and get nowhere at all was unsettling enough, but now if she tried, there was a four story monolith staring at her. She could feel it, like a creepy crawling thing at her back. She'd found herself twisting her shoulders, trying to shake that feeling the longer she walked. Like it was boring a hole into her brain.
And it was no surprise when she stopped and turned around, there it was.
This whole goddamn time bubble was really annoying. She was constantly running into Lokis, and everyone around her appeared to be idiots. The two were not mutually exclusive, herself included.
Sylvie folded her hands over her chest. When she looked at it, the feeling of being watched intensified but didn't seem as cloying as those who touched it had described.
We survive.
That was why she simply watched it, trying to figure out — from a safe distance — if there was anything she could glean off it. The stone — if you could call it that — looked almost liquid, and it was clear enough that you could see reflections in the stone. She wasn't looking at her reflection though; she couldn't quite make it out at all. She could just tell it was not her.
Was it some sort of communication device? Was it studying them? Part of the experiment to watch the lab rats as you introduced a new toy? Watch them go mad while they contemplate the shiny new thing?
"This place is going to turn our brains all into mush," she said to no one in particular. She was, after all, used to talking to herself. Other people, not so much.
The start of new weeks in Derleth were growing more and more tiresome for Fandral. One week things were surprisingly lovely, the next they were stuck in a Void of some sort that no one had yet to figure out, the following week always seemed to harbor monsters of some kind. Nothing was ever the same and the emotional whiplash was -- for lack of a better term -- weighing on him. Things from previous weeks still happened, even if the weekly resets brought people back from those events, like death.
In Fandral’s case, he’d been brought back prior to the reset, but it had left him a nauseating color of pink and without much desire to eat or sleep or really involve himself in anything the remainder of the week. Instead he’d opted to stay in his room, briefly seeing Natasha when she’d brought him a peanut butter sandwich and then Loki that same day. Otherwise he’d kept quiet and to himself.
That was until the reset. As it seemed to happen every week, he woke up shortly after 1:32 in the morning and went through what had become something of a routine. Going back to sleep always felt like a struggle and it had been even more difficult that morning, what with the flashes of death going through his mind, the final memories of Asgard and the Bifrost. So he tossed and turned on his small bed until finally deciding to get up for the day, to find something to eat, to shower, etc. And yet he still kept to himself -- normally he would have checked on Loki, but he’d decided after the events of the previous week and some days to give him the space he seemed to desire. What Loki chose to do with it was his choice; Fandral didn’t want the other man to feel like he was actively trying to break down walls he wanted up for his own protection.
Now it was mid-morning and after seeing discussion of a large black monolith on the network, he decided to venture out, see what the fuss was about. He’d already assured Natasha that he wouldn’t touch it, but he was curious.
It was then that he caught sight of the smaller, blonde haired woman nearby, inspecting it herself. He was quiet as he approached -- his eyes taking in her garments and feeling quite curious about them. They seemed familiar and yet not. She was of an Asgard, allegedly. His footsteps were quiet on the grass and he clasped his hands behind his back casually, catching her words on the wind when he was just a matter of feet from her.
“Aye, you are probably correct in that assumption. Or it will just drive us all to madness, eventually. I suppose they could be considered one in the same.”
Sylvie heard the approach, but didn't make to move even if her mind was turning over escape routes, fight plans, and anything else she could think of if this situation turned bad. After He Who Remains confronted her about her villainy and her inability to trust, it was becoming increasingly obvious to her just how untrusting she was. Just how often she looked for exits and was constantly on the look-out for anyone and anything suspicious. Just one little thing out of place.
She made a conscious effort now not to do those things, and it was very obvious by her slightly oversized eyes and the tapping of her foot. Anxiety tapping.
"Mm," she answered, trying to think of something clever or witty to respond with. She remembered being very fond of Fandral and his heroics when she was small. Probably had something of an eight year old's version of a crush on him. And Sif. "Doesn't really matter where the madness comes from. It's all madness in the end, yeah?"
“Hmm, yeah.” He let an amused smirk pull at one corner of his mouth as he looked at her, eyeing her quietly for just a moment. “Madness is madness no matter how you look at it. I certainly hope that should this place decide to make minced meat of all of our minds, it takes its time with that effort.” Fandral was in no hurry to find himself insane thanks to the likes of Derleth.
He remained standing where he was, allowing a fair amount of space between them, and even further space between himself and the looming black monolith that had decided to take up residence on the campus grounds. Fandral’s eyes moved over her quickly -- noting the anxious energy coming off of her, along with her slender figure and all of its assets -- before looking up to the building. Was it a building? It had no doors or windows, but the surface seemed reflective, to an extent.
How odd.
“Are you settling in? This place is… strange, to say the least. It can take some getting used to, though I am certain arriving in the midst of what we were dealing with last week was… well, not enjoyable. To anyone.” Fandral found nothing enjoyable about those creatures and the smirk on his face faltered slightly at the memory. “At least the Void,” he said, loosening his hands to gesture vaguely up toward the nothingness above and around them, “generally allows for some calm, in my experience. Though not always.”
"I think I'd rather go quick than have to deal with realizing I'm losing my mind." Of course, now that she said it outloud, she was hoping this place wasn't going to turn her brain into minced meat. She was rather fond of having all of her mental facilities available to her. She'd heard that the TVA used Time Loops, but she'd never been on the receiving end, likely because there wasn't much to go on when you lived your life off the timeline.
Sylvie tried to go for a more casual approach, but her social facilities weren't up to snuff. She'd spent so much of her life on the run or around the worst faces of people that it was something she'd let slack. She used to talk to herself for a while there, early on, but even that got dull and boring. So her social skills were getting a bit of a work-out here. Maybe one day, she'd be a Real Person with Real Conversational Skills.
"I've been to another Void. This was definitely more peaceful." She looked toward the theater and where the nebulous thing had been the last time she'd been in the void at night. "At least right now — " She suddenly turned to look at him. "I'm sorry, are you getting the feeling that this thing is watching you?"
She remained facing him, but turned her eyes to the monolith. And there was that feeling again. Maybe it was just her, because she was used to being followed and watched. Some confirmation that she wasn't going mental would be nice.
One of Fandral’s eyebrows perked upward a bit toward his hairline at her words. “You’ve been to another Void?” he inquired, curious.
“I think others refer to this one as a void simply because there is… nothing other than Derleth. What was this other void like? Especially since you mention this one being more peaceful. Though there was one week where we all woke up with no recollection of who we were and some jaunty fellow with a moustache was going around horribly murdering some of the residents. That wasn’t peaceful, mind you.”
Then he cleared his throat softly and gave her a hint of a sheepish grin. “My apologies. I rambled on a bit there, hm?” Fandral winked playfully before letting his eyes drift from her to the great big, black thing. “Mm, aye. It does feel a bit as though it’s… tracking us, perhaps? It’s an uneasy feeling, to be certain.”
That was a complete gamut as far as rambling went. Questions, random murders, a wink, and then back to the monolith. It was a lot more talking that Sylvie had done since she got here — if you didn't include dumping half the TVA story on Loki. She hadn't intended to tell him any of that, but natural conversation progressed and before she knew it, one thing needed to be told to explain another.
And then he'd asked her who she was, and felt the need to explain it somehow.
"It's definitely watching," she replied, turning her head from side to side, but never taking her eyes off it. "The void I was in — was more like the previous world, but with just one monster. Made of smoke. This void was also at the end of time." Don't talk too much or there will be too many questions.
"A jaunty fellow with a mustache, amnesia, and murder. I dunno, that sounds like a better time than — well, most things. This man with the mustache. Didn't happen to be Santa Claus, did he?" It was meant as a joke, but she could never tell here.
His eyes remained on the monolith for a good while, narrowing slightly as he looked at it, trying to determine if that was his own reflection he could see in the black shine of the outside or something else entirely. Or maybe it was just a trick of the light. Something playing with his eyes. He didn’t really like that, so he turned his attention back to the smaller blonde woman beside him.
Sylvie. A stranger who knew him from Asgard and yet he had no recollection of her whatsoever.
“A void at the end of time with a monster made of smoke… hm. That does not sound very welcoming at all. I’m sure it was not meant to be, either.” There were questions he could ask, but somehow he got the impression that now was not the time. Instead he chuckled quietly as the subject moved to the discussion of Derleth’s voids.
“No, I do not believe it was that Nicholas fellow. An imposter of some kind, went by Ted? A strange name and turned out to be some horrific beast, though not quite as bad as, well…” Fandral paused and cleared his throat softly. “Still, a lot of horrible things happened that week. This thing aside,” he said, nodding toward the monolith, “I am hoping this week is a bit quieter.”
"Ted. Fairly common Midgardian name. I think I've met a million Teds by now," she answered with a shrug. Ted, Frank, Logan, John, Mike, Robert. Of all the Midgardian apocalypses, some names seemed to pop up more than others. She couldn't remember most of their faces, but that had been on purpose. She knew what happened to them. Remembering faces just left her with nightmares. "Never met a jaunty Ted though."
She tilted her head sideways, as if somehow from that position, the wonders of this black stone — was it stone? — would open up to her. She thought about enchantment, but if this thing was watching her, then she wasn't sure she wanted anything else it could do.
"I know you don't remember me," she said finally. "I was eight when I left Asgard, so I'd be surprised if you did remember me." What she didn't know was that Fandral in Loki's world hadn't turned up in Asgard until later.
“From what I can remember of that week — and mind you, once he was dispatched is when we all remembered ourselves — he was incredibly… joyful. Too joyful. I suppose it ought to have been a warning sign that something was wrong, but we did not have any idea.”
That week had come and gone, though Loki had sustained quite the injury; so badly that Fandral had feared he would lose his life before he was able to get him any help.
That was also not something he wanted to think about. Unfortunately, that list seemed to get longer and longer as the days passed.
He listened as she explained, albeit briefly, the reason why he would not remember her and frowned a little. “You were eight?” he asked, confusion mixed with his tone. “And you said we used to play together as children, if I am remembering that conversation correctly, yes?”
"Yes. Kubb. And chasing one another, like kids do." She paused, giving a thoughtful expression. She barely remembered it, but it was enough to spark a reminiscence. "Don't think I really understand why children do that — chasing each other — there's almost never some sort of game with it. Just chasing each other around."
The same as people will eventually chase each other around.
"I'm not a fan of people who are too joyful. Seems like something's wrong. Like broken in them." Sylvie sniffed. She'd seen a lot of it in the end times she learned to live in. Something would snap, and the person would act like it was a normal day, nothing to worry about. Entirely too happy. She supposed it was a form of denial, and to be honest, Sylvie had resigned herself that she could do nothing in these situations. Apocalypse, death — it was coming, and if she tried to intervene, the TVA would know how to find her.
That admission made his expression soften slightly, though there was a hint of sadness to the look he gave her before letting his attention drift elsewhere. “For some reason, it is something that children find amusing. To see who can outrun the other. Though Midgardians seem to think it is a form of flirting.” Fandral chuckled softly, adjusting his arms and hands to fold them loosely over his chest instead, and then he fell quiet. Just for a moment, though.
“I am deeply sorry to say that I think the Fandral that you knew as a child and I are… not the same.” There was a genuine disappointment to his tone when he spoke and he glanced back over at her, that sadness all the more obvious.
“I did not arrive in Asgard until after I had turned eighteen.” He paused again, shifting his weight to turn toward her more directly again, his eyes searching her. “Though I am glad that we were childhood friends in your life; I hope your memories of our time together are fond. And I am glad to know you now.” Well, he knew her as best as he could given how little they had talked.
"I'm used to it — people not knowing who I am."
It was just a fact of life now. She was still pissed it had been taken from her, but there was no closure to be had. Killing He Who Remains had opened the timelines, but she would never fit into one. That was fine, almost expected. Seriously, what had she expected? That everything would magically be fine after? That was just the stunted little girl inside her.
"So I guess we get to know one another now."
She turned to him and held out her hand. She was slightly nervous.
"I'm Sylvie. It's nice to meet you, Fandral."
Normally he would have taken the opportunity to turn on the charm, flirt up an absolute storm, and see where it led him. He suspected she was not the sort he’d get away doing that with. Especially not considering she’d known a version of him as a child. Instead he offered her a smile and took her hand in his, giving it a good, firm half-shake. “It is very good to meet you as well, Sylvie.”
He held onto her hand for an extra beat or two though, squeezing it gently, before loosening his grip. “If you don’t mind my asking, why did you leave Asgard at all, especially as a child?” The idea was lost on him. What reason could there possibly be?
Fandral’s eyebrows knit together in curiosity then, thinking over scenarios that would cause that. Perhaps she’d gone to Midgard at a young age and raised there for some reason. Or had Ragnarok happened much earlier in her life than his? Was she the sole survivor of their world? He turned over a couple more ideas in his mind before smiling, mentally shaking it off. “Though I suppose it does not matter in a way. You are here now. I am grateful for another Asgardian amongst us, truthfully.”
She could see his mind turning over reasons for leaving Asgard so young. That was a complicated question, and one whose answer had really messed with Loki earlier that day. Sylvie wasn't sure whether she could do that to someone else just yet. No, she could, but whether or not she would was a whole other story. There wasn't really a way of getting to it without getting into all of it.
"It's — difficult to answer without a whole lot of tragic backstory." The Lokis certainly had a lot of that. Except maybe alligator Loki. She still didn't know the deal with him. "A lot of backstory."
She paused. "Loki didn't take it so well. I knew another version of him. A variant. Looked like him but came from a different point in his timeline. Sort of like how some of the people here are from all over theirs. No one seems to match up, do they?"
“Tragic backstory?” Well, that made him all the more curious but he wouldn’t press the issue at hand. Perhaps she would be willing to tell him another time. Like when they weren’t standing there being hypothetically glowered at by a looming monolith.
Fandral gave a small nod of understanding and then nodded his head in the opposite direction from which he’d come, indicating that perhaps they ought to start walking. At least to get away from the building. He didn’t care for the feeling that it instilled in him and the sooner he wasn’t in its shadow, the better. “A variant, hm?” Interesting.”I know there is another Loki here, but I think he is from an alternate realm entirely. This Loki you know, however, is from our realm but a different… point in time?” Fandral paused then, thinking it over. “What point is that?”
Sylvie stepped in line with Fandral, putting a slight distance between them. Being paranoid meant that she often offended people just by being in survival mode. Some people didn't take to it kindly, even at the end of the world. She looked over her shoulder at the monolith and frowned, scrunching up her nose. She did not like that thing.
"It's — complicated. The variant and timeline stuff. Every action has the potential to cause another timeline." But the Time Variance Authority was meant to keep everyone on the same one. "That's why that Loki was picked up. So he's not really the same Loki, he just looks the same and has a similar history to a point." She looked over at Fandral. "Battle of New York. That Loki snatched the Tesseract and ran off with it, causing another timeline."
She shoved her arms across her chest once more, as she walked. "There's variants of everyone. Every decision we make."
“Strange… I knew there were multiple universes; of course there are, right? The cosmos are far too big for any other option. I just suppose I hadn’t considered there being something like that. Variants, as you called them, of everyone. I wonder if the Fandral from your timeline is also a variant? Or am I?” He chuckled softly at the question, simply musing out loud.
“Maybe we both are. Who is to know?” He paused briefly, as if genuinely considering the question. “And if the Loki here, the one I know from my timeline isn’t a variant, then what is he exactly?”
Sylvie realized that she'd stepped into her own trap. She'd started to explain, and now if she didn't explain fully, she'd leave him with open questions. Questions he wouldn't understand and answers he would not like. Like with Loki, that morning, he would insist that his decisions were his own.
They were.
They just also aligned with what someone else wanted for the universe as a whole.
And Sylvie thought all of those universes that didn't fit with his big picture should have a chance to grow and change and mutate into whatever they wanted. Getting revenge was part of it, but as the goddess of mischief — a name she despised now — she knew the universe was stifled and wanted chaos. It wanted to break free.
"It's hard to tell who is a variant and who isn't. We're all variants to someone, aren't we? The other Loki isn't like the one we know here, so who is the variant? To the Loki we know, it's the other one. To the other one, it's the Loki we know."
She paused, trying to put a spin on it.
"It's all relative, isn't it?"
Curious. Fandral looked at her as she explained, his brows furrowing just slightly at her words. “I suppose when you put it that way, yes, it is all relative.” That still didn’t ebb his curiosity about the timelines and variants, though, but he decided that perhaps it would be best to drop the subject for now. Besides, Loki apparently knew what she was talking about -- he could always ask him and hope to get an honest response.
“Is there more of your timeline you wish to tell me? I would like to know, but I also do not wish to press the topic. It is good to have more Asgardians around, though. It helps.” He went quiet for a moment, his eyes falling briefly to his feet as he walked. “I admittedly have been dreadfully homesick since my arrival here, yet I know there is nothing for me to return to should I find myself no longer of this plane.”
Not only would he have nothing to return to, but he would just cease to exist as far as that were concerned. No one knew exactly what happened to the dead when they left Derleth and he was certain no one would ever find out.
"I wish I knew more about my timeline." That was true. She did. She wanted to know what would happen in her absence, or how things would have gone if she'd been allowed to stay in it. She'd really wanted to meet a real life Valkyrie and have adventures saving the Nine Realms from Dark Elves and Surtur. All alongside Thor. "I left it because it was destroyed. It doesn't exist anymore. I'm not supposed to exist anymore."
She shook her head, not really wanting pity out of the conversation. She'd realized a long time ago just how incredibly tragic her entire life was. "That was a thousand or so years ago though, so it's all water under the bridge."
That was enough honesty for one conversation though. Sylvie was eager to get out of it, if she was honest. Too much honesty about her past generally brought more questions for the other person, and more anger and frustration for Sylvie.
"I'd rather not talk about it anymore, if that's alright."
She paused and thought.
"So last week. Nightmare, huh?"
“Are you referring to Asgard? It does not exist anymore in my timeline either.” He paused. “And neither do I, truthfully.” The smile that had been playing on his lips faltered a little as he glanced back over at her. He knew that they had been friends in her childhood and even though he wasn’t the Fandral that she’d known once upon a time, he still felt that conveying that fact needed to be done gently. Or as gently as he could when discussing matters of his own death.
Fandral nodded a bit then and lifted a hand, waving it a little as if he were waving off the conversation. “Aye, my apologies. We do not need to discuss it any further.” Though really -- they were going from one horrible topic to another.
“Mm, yes. A nightmare is… accurate.” He inhaled a slow, quiet breath and released it just the same. “Though I am glad not to be pink anymore.” Fandral’s eyes looked to his hands for a moment before he looked back over to her with another small, playful smile. “Is that vain of me?”
Sylvie wasn't going to correct him that it was more than Asgard that was gone; it was an entire timeline where she existed as the goddess of mischief. That meant Fandral, Sif, Thor, Odin, Frigga — all of them were erased from that existence. That could be talked about some other time, maybe online when she didn't have to ponder the exact phrases to say without finding herself in a bit of a pickle.
"It's not vain enough to be worried about, if that's what you mean," she told him. It wasn't not vain, but a little bit of vanity never hurt. Vanity saw you putting on clean clothing and taking showers. Extreme vanity was the issue, and she didn't think being glad not to be a clashing shade of Pepto pink was extreme in the least. "You'd have to really be into pink to want to be pink."
“Aye, you are quite right, and while I am deeply thankful to--” Fandral paused, catching himself before Stevie’s name slipped off of his tongue. “Well, to my savior, as it were. The pinkness was a bit much, hm?” He chuckled softly then and lowered his hands, clasping them behind his back once more.
“All the same, I am glad to be rid of those horrible creatures. I had never seen anything quite like them and I wish never to see them again.” His gaze wandered then, momentarily, a darkness crossing over his vision before he blinked and it was gone. He’d seen many horrible things in his centuries of living, and yet what he’d experienced at the hands (if you could call them yet) of that beast was something he wasn’t sure he’d be able to shake off anytime soon.
Then Fandral glanced back over to her with a gentle, but amused smile. “Perhaps we will be lucky enough to find ourselves back in the realm of Disney. Loki had quite the frustrating adventure our first couple of days there, trying to pull a sword out of a stone and such. It was quite amusing. Have you ever been? There is this dessert treat called a Dole Whip that, oh, I desperately wish I could have again. It was divine, Sylvie. I could have made myself sick on them given half a chance! Perhaps I can relay our tales of this realm to you if you have any interest?”
Sometimes Sylvie forgot how the people in Asgard spoke. She'd been around so many varieties of people in their last moments that her accent was all over the place, and she hadn't really noticed until the other Loki had showed up in Alabama. Asgardians, particularly nobles, spoke so formally. She wrinkled her nose a little, but it wasn't with malice.
"I think I'd like to hear about Disney World." The only time she'd been there was a disaster, of course. So she knew the general layout, where the best places to get food that didn't need to be cooked and not to hide in the tunnels beneath it when there was flooding. "I've never gotten to see it in all its glory."