Loki (fiorvalr) wrote in noexits, @ 2021-10-03 09:33:00 |
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Loki promised Mobius a drink and a chance at friendship.
Loki sat on one of two lawn chairs that he’d set up behind the Lake Greenhouse which was just a short walk from the Ellery Laboratory building. It probably would have been easier to find him if he’d set up the chairs in front of the greenhouse or even inside the greenhouse, but Loki didn’t want to risk anyone else coming across him. He didn’t want to see anybody except for the man he’d invited for a drink. And, to be quite honest, the longer he waited the more he didn’t even want to see him. The more he didn’t want to see anyone. But Loki had already sent Mobius a message telling him where to meet. It was too late to change his mind. Maybe Mobius would do him a favor and not show. Then Loki wouldn’t have to put on that illusion of being okay. Because Loki was the furthest thing from okay. He reached forward to the egg crate he’d found in the greenhouse — which was now serving as a makeshift table for the bottle of Merlot he’d brought with him — and straightened the two empty wine glasses. There was no need to do this. No purpose. It wasn’t as though this were a romantic rendezvous. Loki didn’t have to impress this man. Still he had an unexplainable need to impress him. It was the same feeling he had with Sylvie. This desire to appear to be a better man. Because, if they were to be believed, then another version of him was a better man. Another Loki — a version of himself stolen out of an earlier moment in his timeline — had forged friendships with them both. More than that. He’d managed to elicit feelings beyond friendship. Love, perhaps? And Loki was jealous of that. He was jealous of himself. And so he tried to be more like the Loki he could have been. He tried to impress. Maybe if he faked it enough someone would believe him. Or maybe it would actually work. Perhaps if he tried hard enough to be another Loki he’d actually become one. A Loki who people could appreciate and respect. A Loki they could trust. A Loki who could love. A Loki who could be loved. Maybe he should have used his magic to cut the grass. The weeds beyond the greenhouse went halfway up his shins. He waved his hand and magically cleared the brush and undergrowth in that little sitting area he’d created. There. Much better. Much tidier. He drew a palm over the front of his shirt, smoothing the wrinkles. A squirrel scurried past. Loki watched it disappear in the high weeds. Then he glanced up and stared off in the distance. Just beyond the grass he could see the start of the Void. The vast white nothingness. If Mobius didn’t show up in the next thirty seconds he was going to drink the entire bottle by himself. The majority of his time was spent in the green, where the animals were unusual creatures that he couldn’t quite make sense of, but Mobius was accustomed to the strange and unexplainable. It had been part of his life when he had been part of the TVA after all. More often than not his mind went wandering back to that life, that somehow felt like a million years ago now; it was odd to be free of the TVA, to just … be. He had never expected that he would be able to stop running once he had freed himself of their clutches but the void persisted, and as that time passed him by, Mobius had gradually begun to think it was something else. Because the Tempad hadn’t worked, and if this was of the TVA creation, it should have… shouldn’t it? Before heading out to meet up with Loki, Mobius had changed into the simple white button up, and slacks that he had managed to bring back with him from his stint in the sheriff-turned-martian-killer world, which weren’t all that different from the TVA uniform, but at least they weren’t quite as garish. As he rounded the Lake Greenhouse, Mobius spotted the familiar dark-head of Loki, sitting and waiting, no doubt for him. His footsteps were muffled by the grass, but Mobius was sure that the God of Mischief would be able to tell he was being approached even without a greeting or thunderous foot-fall. “You know what?” Mobius spoke up suddenly as he stepped around to fall into the unoccupied lawn chair, tugging at the edge of the button-down in an attempt to straighten it out. “I never imagined I would see Loki hanging around in a lawn chair.” The white-haired man sat for a moment, looking at the other, almost expectantly. Loki, in Mobius’s opinion, had been behaving rather particularly the last few times that they had spoken with one another and yet Mobius had no idea what was happening with him. Coming right out and asking him what was happening was unlikely to do anything but irritate the God, and so Mobius assumed he had to be careful about the conversation. Looking towards the bottle, Mobius gestured towards it. “I thought this place was all out.” Loki did hear Mobius’s approach — about bloody time — but he didn’t look up until Mobius was at his side and speaking. Then Loki craned his head upward, dark hair swooping over his shoulders, and gave Mobius one of those signature smiles. The kind that was wide and bursting with teeth, capable of hiding almost all of his troubles. A distraction from the true feelings that were mulling about in his mind. Although, a careful and scrutinizing gaze might notice that the smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was fake. An illusion. Like so much else in Loki’s life. “First time for everything. I like to keep people on their toes. Do you feel like you’re on your toes, Mr. Mobius?” Loki stretched his legs out in front of him. Dark, form-fitting jeans and a long-sleeved dress shirt that was rolled up to the elbows. Not exactly the average Loki apparel. But Loki was starting to relax into a new look. One that was more befitting the Derleth setting. Even in casual attire he commanded attention. Once Mobius took a seat beside him, Loki leaned forward to the egg crate table. He used magic to undo the cork from the bottle and poured them both a glass. Half full. No sense in being stingy. This was supposed to be a friend-making “date”, after all. Maybe he ought to pour a bit more. Just in case. “Personal stash,” Loki said, brimming more than a little bit with pride. He picked up one of the glasses and held it out to Mobius. “Something I saved from the trip to Florida that you missed. I have a few more bottles, but shh! No one knows. Wouldn’t want to start a riot outside of my bedroom door.” Loki picked up the other glass for himself. “Should we toast? Not sure if that’s a thing people do in your realm.” Mobius looked at the dark haired man for a long moment, expression one of pleasant neutrality and an easy going smile. He was curious about this Loki, and what was going on in his mind. This Loki was so very different than the one that Mobius had known, and yet the similarities were there; there was no way for there not to be, because they were variants of each other after all. “When you call me Mr Mobius it makes me think I should be on my toes.” He watched as the liquid sloshed into the two cups, before his attention shifted back to the God. “Florida? Was that when you went to Disney?” He raised a hand, mimicking zipping his lips closed, though they pulled up even higher at the corners. “Your secret is safe with me.” “I’m not sure if it is something they do in my realm or not. Mostly because I don’t actually know where I come from.” Mobius reached for his own glass, and raised it in the air between himself and Loki. “Toast to new friendships?” “If I keep you on your toes long enough you might have a career as a ballerino.” Loki winked. “Yes, the infamous realm of the mouse. One of the more memorable adventures since I’ve been here. Sadly, there was an unfortunate absence of alcohol at Disney World. Lucky for me I learned how to make portals that week. So I took a trip to France and picked up this bottle from a small vineyard in Bordeaux. It wasn’t cheap so make sure you enjoy it.” A semi-threatening way of telling Mobius that he’d broken out the good wine for this little tête-à-tête. Although, now that he was looking at Mobius in person again he wondered if he hadn’t misjudged his drinking habits. Maybe he should have gone with a beer. Not that Loki had much in the way of beer stashed away in his room. Lack of refrigeration aside, he was more of a wine connoisseur. So it rarely occurred to him to venture outside of his own tastes. People should have adjusted to him, shouldn’t they? Oh, wait. That’s not how friendships worked. Natasha may have pointed that out to him once or twice. Loki leaned across that space between their lawn chairs and gently clinked his glass against Mobius’s. His lips curled into a knowing smirk, higher on the right side of his mouth than the left. “To a new friendship … and whatever form it might take.” He brought the glass to mouth, paused to take a whiff, before indulging in a small sip. “The upside of not knowing anything about where you come from is that you can make up all the customs and traditions you want. Maybe a toast in your realm is sealed with a drink. Or maybe with something more.” Loki didn’t elaborate further on what more could be. Mobius seemed like the sort to have something of an imagination. He could figure it out. “I meant to do this with you earlier. Truly, I did. But the last few weeks have been a bit hectic. I do hope you haven’t taken it personally. I’m quite popular. Although I’m sure you already know that. Sometimes it’s hard to find a free moment.” “Something tells me I wouldn’t make that good of a ballerina, but I’m willing to give it a try.” It was easy to trade joking remarks with Loki, perhaps because Mobius remembered the relationship which he had shared with Loki before arriving in this void. He was not stupid though, because Mobius understood that this wasn’t the same Loki, and never would be. It was not as if they could replicate the relationship he had shared with the variant. “Is that so? I’m more inclined towards whiskey myself, but a good, authentic French wine sounds lovely.” “To a new friendship and…” The glasses clinked together lightly, and Mobius kept his gaze fixed to the other. He didn’t miss the way that Loki had begun to smirk, but Mobius brought the glass to his lips instead of commenting. He chuckled lightly as he swallowed back the wine, and gave a slight nod. “Great wine. I’ll know better than to question your tastes any time soon.” Ever since he had discovered he was a variant of some other Mobius out there, he had wondered where he had come from originally. Was it earth, or some place similar? There were other realms, other planets, that were filled with people that bore similar appearances to Mobius and it wasn’t as if he could actually pin down any one place. There wasn’t time, after all. “Maybe you can help me work on creating some traditions.” Mobius could figure out what Loki meant without much thought, but he chose not to say anything, instead a quiet chuckle left him before he tipped the glass back once more. “Don’t worry about that, I haven’t. I think it’s only natural you draw in crowds of people, you might be the God of Mischief but that’s not all you are. Charismatic people are always surrounded by others.” He leaned back in the lawn chair, attempting to get comfortable as the glass rested atop the leg of his slacks. “Being so busy, have you had any time to really process through everything that’s happened?” Loki raised a curious brow when Mobius mentioned being a whiskey drinker. And, in truth, that both surprised and impressed Loki. He even gave Mobius a more affectionate once-over afterwards as though to see what else he’d missed or misread about this friend-of-another-Loki. Curious. He wasn’t often surprised. But he was glad for it. He liked pleasant surprises. “Then I’ll be sure to break out the good scotch for the next time we meet,” Loki replied. His tone was joking, almost mocking, but there was an undertone of truth to his words. If nothing else, it was clear that Loki wouldn’t forget. And should they decide that a real friendship was on the menu, then Loki probably would have a whiskey ready for them both. Because Loki also enjoyed defying expectations. Loki crossed his legs at the knees and rolled on his hip sideways in the chair so he was facing Mobius completely. Open posture. Relaxed. Maybe a little too desperate to make Mobius feel like they truly were friends. But Loki was new to this. And he’d never tried to befriend someone who was already close to him—well, another him. But to someone who already liked at least one other Loki. He wasn’t entirely certain what the best approach was. He was testing the waters. But so far he hadn’t fallen flat on his face. So, it seemed to be going well. “I’d love to.” He took another sip of wine. “Charismatic? Mobius, are you flirting with me?” Another joke. This time used to deflect his feelings over the final question. Had he had time to process? Process what? There had been so much to happen to him over the last two months. And that didn’t even include his death at the hands of Thanos or learning that there was another version of himself from earlier in his own timeline out there living a better life. Loki took another sip. “I don’t exactly process things. Things happen and I react. Usually badly. And then something else happens to distract from the last thing. And everything piles up until there’s so much that it really isn’t possible to process it all. Where do you even start?” Derleth alone had done nothing but cause emotional misery for Loki. He glanced away from Mobius and stared out into the Void that was just beyond the high weeds. “No, I haven’t processed much of anything. Everytime I try something else prevents me or gets in the way. Everytime I try to change, Derleth throws something chaotic at us. Or I lose my memory. I don’t think this place wants me to process. I think it just wants me to hurt.” He paused. “It wants all of us to hurt.” “I’ll bring along some good pastries, maybe scones, then.” Loki could supply the liquor and Mobius would attempt to feed them. It was a sort of give and take that Mobius assumed friends did, although the other Loki had mostly ruined his lunches. Mobius was relaxing in the lawn chair, light gaze fixed upon the taller individual; watching the way he shifted towards Mobius, as if giving him his undivided attention. It wasn’t something Loki had done up until now, as he had originally thought Mobius was an enemy and really… just as he had said, things had been impressively hectic. It hadn’t left them much time to socialize like this. “I would too.” Mobius laughed at that small remark, and arched his brows. “Maybe.” But there wasn’t much time to say, or do, much else because Loki had continued speaking. His words felt deliberate to Mobius, almost dismissive. It was almost surprising to hear the God’s opinion for their current state, but was it such a bad belief to harbor? Derleth was a strange place that didn’t allow them even peace in death. Instead it allowed them to die, or be murdered, and just come back later on. As if nothing mattered, and yet everything did all at once. “Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if you were right about that. About Derleth, but…” His nails tapped softly against the side of the wine glass, before Mobius gripped the stem of the glass and raised it for another quick drink. “I would say you could start from the newest issue, and work backwards. Take whatever chance you have to process, like now.” Mobius gestured between them then. “We have time, if you want to talk about what’s bothering you, if you’d like. That’s what friends do, you know?” A strange thing happened then. Loki went quiet. And Loki failed to find the words to fill the silence. He just looked at Mobius with a kind of uncertain discomfort. He wasn’t accustomed to this kind of compassion from people. From this kind of honesty and acceptance. Even before he’d ventured down to Midgard and left a trail of chaos behind him. Even when he was a boy he didn’t experience this openness. Yes, Frigga had been kind to him. Loving. She cared for him as a real mother. But their family had never been fully honest with each other. There was too much ego. Too much competition. And far too much fear. Fear of being the one left behind. That was Loki. Loki had always been the one left behind. He never could have competed with Thor. Odin’s heir. The golden child. Loki had always been a pawn in a game of chess he didn’t realize they were all playing. Didn’t realize until it was too late. He stared down into the wine glass, watching the red liquid swirl to a stop. It was too dark for him to see his own reflection, but he imagined it anyway. Like a visage bathed in blood. “The newest issue?” Loki pursed his lips into a disheartened frown. Which of his ‘newest issues’ deserved to be dealt with first? His newfound companionship with the other Lokis? His potentially relationship-changing quarrel with Fandral? The destruction he inflicted on the people of that alternate Dunwich? The lack of guilt he felt for leading an army of martians against an innocent world? Returning the shade to Julia? His deaths? He pinched the bridge of his nose and then took a big gulp of wine, finishing off the glass in one go. Afterwards he picked up the bottle and refilled it halfway. And before he knew it the thing he’d been thinking for a long time—thinking but never consciously accepting—spilled from his lips. “I don’t want to be Loki anymore.” He paused. Then he laughed. Because laughing was the only thing that might prevent another response. One that he wasn’t willing to do in public. While Mobius felt the desire to prod him — to push Loki as the silence stretched on, he instead chose to remain silent. Staying in that casually relaxed and reclined position in the lawn chair that felt stiff against his spine and shoulders, the glass being turned slowly in hand just to keep Mobius occupied. Lifting his own glass, he swallowed back some of the dark liquid but didn’t manage to down it all in one go as Loki had. There was no urgency in much of anything Mobius was doing, because he had nowhere to be. Nothing to do after visiting with his new friend, and really, he didn’t want it to seem as if he did. Because he felt as if Loki wouldn’t take kindly to it seeming as if he were in a rush. “No?” Those words were something of a surprise to the grey-haired man, brows knitting together for the briefest of moments as he looked at Loki.A Loki was a Loki, after all, or so Mobius had thought some time ago… after meeting the Variant Loki who had run off with Sylvie, and then these two other Loki’s in Derleth, Mobius knew that wasn’t true. They might share the same horns, the same name and similarities to their pasts yet… each one was unique unto itself. “Who do you want to be then?” None of them had anywhere to be. Wasn’t that the cruel trick of it all? Pulled from their lives, their deaths, their timelines—there was no rush for anything. They literally had all the time in the world and no idea what to do with it. At least, Loki didn’t know what to do with it. In the end he spent too much of his free time thinking. Dwelling on misdeeds, poor choices, and missed opportunities. At some point he’d made the decision that he wanted to change, but whenever he tried to make a step in the right direction he was met with one of Derleth’s many challenges. Last week was supposed to be his big chance to do better. But he wasn’t himself. Worse than that. He was another version of himself. One that didn’t want to change. He leaned over and topped off Mobius’s glass even though it wasn’t quite empty. Then he placed the bottle back on the egg crate. In another location and with another conversation it might have been a romantic gesture. Maybe it was. Loki very rarely did anything without some form or charisma. Even if romantic intentions weren’t there, he had that certain draw. That allure. It was part and parcel of being the silver-tongued villain. Part of being Loki. “I don’t know.” A magical green glow spread over his physique and suddenly he looked like an exact replica of Mobius. “The mysterious mustachioed man, perhaps?” Loki grinned and then changed his illusion to Sylvie. The smile and the eyes were all Loki though. “The lost goddess?” He shifted again. This time to the alligator. But that was a hard figure to drink the wine in. Then he turned back into himself, but instead of the long black hair he looked more like his human counterpart. The one he’d been during another alternate Derleth that Mobius had missed. Shorter ginger-blond hair and the start of a trimmed beard. Midgardian Loki as some had come to refer to him during that week. Professor Loki. “I envy Sylvie. I’m sure she wouldn’t believe me if I said so. But can you imagine what that would do for so many of us? To have the opportunity to create a new identity? To be free of the past? Her history is torture, of course. I don’t envy that. But to be someone besides Loki. To be thought of as someone different … someone better.” Loki covered a sigh with a sip of wine. “That’s something I wish I could do.” Slowly that image of the short haired Loki dissipated. Enchantment gone. Replaced by his normal appearance. Sullen and somber. “But it’s too late for that now.” He offered Mobius a smile but it was off-kilter. Crooked. Unhappy. “You’re the Loki specialist. What’s your suggestion? Who do you think I should be?” The slow pour of wine into his glass held Mobius’s attention for a moment, pale blue eyes staring at the dark liquid that sloshed around with the slightest movement. It was something of a delicacy to have for the TVA agent, something he had found he missed since arriving at Derleth; not quite the alcohol itself, but sitting with another, sharing a drink and chatting. It had been something which he and Ravonna had done in the past, two old friends that went onto drastically different paths in the end and yet, he still missed her. Missed what they had, the simplicity. Hell, he missed his Loki too. Despite how much trouble he had gotten him into, and the constant disappearing shit he had pulled. Mobius exhaled softly, and lifted the glass, taking a quick swallow. “I wouldn’t call myself mysterious, but… I’ll take it.” Somehow it wasn’t terribly jarring to see the other man transforming into various different people, the hair color, the shape of his jawline and eyes changing, but still wholly Loki. And he just listened. Listened to Loki speak in a way that could almost be reminiscent, but felt sad to Mobius. As if the God had resigned to some fate that he was not sharing with Mobius, and perhaps not even himself. The smile that remained on Mobius’s face was soft, not quite reaching his eyes as he nodded slightly, to show some understanding for what the other was saying. When a question was finally posed to him, Mobius shifted in place, feet placed flat to the ground as he raised up and looked directly at Loki, holding his gaze. “What do I think? I think … that it’s never too late, and that you should be yourself.” Mobius spoke slowly, deliberately, wondering if what he said would offend the God, because it was the exact opposite of what he was saying and Loki was a bit … finicky. “I understand where you are coming from, and what you mean, but … you’re not an inherently bad person, but a person that has done bad things and that’s pretty much all of us isn’t it?” The glass of wine was placed onto the egg grate, and his shoulders hefted in a shrug. “You have it in you to be better … as Loki. And, if I’m honest, I think you’re already better… after all, you’re questioning how to change, how to improve. Would you have done that only a few years ago when you were in Asgard?” Loki stared at Mobius for a long time. He didn’t even blink. He just stared at him, surprised by the emotions that stirred in response to Mobius’s answer. Loki had anticipated a joke. Maybe even a shrug paired with something halfheartedly sentimental. What he hadn’t expected was honesty. Pure, unadulterated honesty. Mobius must have truly been a friend to this other Loki — the Loki he felt so much jealousy towards — to be this open and sincere with him. Him. Another Loki. One who hadn’t shared his adventures or his turmoil. A Loki who didn’t even know or understand the relationship they had. Or the relationship Mobius had with Sylvie. And yet, Mobius still offered him the truth. And gave him his opinion regardless of the retort Loki might offer in return. And the old Loki would have had a retort. Hel, even the Loki of two months ago would have been quick to respond. Brash. Reckless. Dismissive. But the Loki of today? The Loki of this moment? He tempered his natural instinct to lash out. He held back. He was thoughtful. He was thinking about Mobius’s words carefully. Not in offense, but as a kindness. There weren’t many people who were willing to hold their own in conversation with him. Let alone those with the strength to tell him the truth. Usually people rolled their eyes or yelled or shouted profanities—all of which were warranted. Loki wasn’t an easy man to get along with. He created drama on purpose to avoid having these kinds of heart-to-hearts. But something had changed. Maybe Mobius was right. Maybe it was Loki who had changed. But how did he keep moving forward with that change? He blinked after a long pause. Then he cleared his throat with an unnecessary cough. “Well, that was an unexpected unveiling of the truth.” Loki took a sip of his wine and tried to distract his focus by staring out towards the endless white Void. It didn’t hold his attention long, however, and soon after he was looking back at Mobius. His eyebrows were pinched towards the center of his forehead, lips tugged in a pout. The expression was almost pleading. “No one’s ever really compared me to everyone before. Nobody’s ever pit my bad deeds against those of other people’s. Mostly because the balance tips hard in my direction. That’s … almost too kind of you to say. You and your Loki must be close if that’s how you feel about me. I haven’t even been nice to you since you arrived.” Loki shook his head at Mobius’s final question. “No, I wouldn’t have. I didn’t think anything needed to change. Well, I did, but at the time change wasn’t necessary. Not that the old routine was working, but it was familiar. I always fall back on the familiar. Not many people actually notice that. But I have the feeling you saw that right away.” “I think you deserved it.” The truth, that was. Honesty. Everyone deserved that much, especially when they were struggling with something as profound as an identity crisis. And after all, Loki was being faced with the unexpected, which was that there were others of him out there, and that no doubt was more than enough to qualify for a few bad days. “We were. Are close.” Because his Loki was still out there, somewhere, and Mobius was certain that he would see him again in time. Either because he left this place, or that Loki found him here in Derleth. Something told Mobius that Loki wouldn’t be willing to handle the loss of Sylvie much, and he considered his own absence would be noticed too. “But it’s not just because of that… mistakes are that, mistakes. At some point they’re to be forgiven. And let’s be honest, you had no reason to be kind to me just because I knew another Loki. You still didn’t know me.” Mobius smiled softly at Loki, and reached for his own glass again, tipping it back to take a measured drink. “I did, but it’s good that you see it too. Because that tells you I’m right, doesn’t it? You wouldn’t have back then; wouldn’t have even seen any need or desire for change. But you do now. That’s an important distinction.” Loki was very rarely at a loss for words. Perhaps that was the most obvious proof that he had made some changes in his life since arriving in Derleth. More and more often he was finding himself in conversations that left him uncertain of how to reply. Sometimes because he was surprised, as he was now by Mobius’s kindness. And sometimes because he was just overwhelmed by emotions. If it had been one person he would have considered it a coincidence. But it wasn’t just one person. Mobius, Sylvie, Natasha, Loki, Bucky, Stevie. Hel, he’d even had unexpected heart-to-hearts with others. Some were more heartfelt than others, but still meaningful. That hadn’t been common in his life before—well, in his life. Period. People simply didn’t talk to Loki that way. Or, perhaps more accurately, Loki never gave them room to. He’d always been so closed off. “That’s not why I was nice to you,” Loki said. He drew a finger over the rim of the wine glass. It didn’t make a sound. But he used his finger to wipe up the red smudge made by his lips. Then he licked it off. “Yes, it matters to me that you knew another Loki. But that’s not why I was kind.” He said the word ‘kind’ with a bit of bite because Loki wasn’t certain that he’d actually been kind. More curious and semi-polite. “I’ve never really had friends before. And I figured that if you could befriend another Loki then maybe there was a chance for me.” That didn’t change the fact that Loki was still paranoid about being friends with another Loki’s buddy. He was still waiting for one of his new companions to betray him. Well, one had in a way. But maybe Loki was partly to blame for that as well. He hadn’t quite figured out how to deal with that situation. So, he was trying to deal with things he could handle. Small steps. “Thank you,” he whispered. He didn’t look at Mobius, but it was clear from his tone that he wasn’t faking his gratitude. “Thank you for not treating me like a Loki.” |