PRIVATE. I was Ugh. Debating if I truly feel chatty right now. You know, given the general mood of commiserating existence as a Loki and sharing Lokiisms.
Did you see everyone here? I poked bears. I poked them. No one cared. It's convenient to blame a Loki, but then what follows? They allow me to brandish my best quips and then a choice few start spilling their thoughts as if it doesn't matter that I am reading them, and so Derleth goes.
What are we supposed to do? Time loops. Deaths are undeathed. Derleth is a holding place where even if I we make any variety of progress towards being another kind of Loki, to what end? And to what point? Maybe next week I'll be an axe murderer! And it's fine. Everything is fine.
Except Fandral, I suppose. The mind boggles. Really, I thought you had more insight. Even Billy swept aside all past grievances, and what I did to him...
Maybe this is worse. Here. I had a friend back home. I had a plan.