"Do you believe that it’s choice or nature that makes someone good? I thought the first -- surely the first can override the second.
Now, I’m not sure.".
⚠ None, I think
The stillness on the rooftop of the Peaslee Theater was the sort that from a place being less used, less frequented…
Missing the usual crowd in a way that the absence breached the boundaries of the present moment. The pillows had been left the way Sylvie and Loki had both taken their leave from them. Impressions were left of company that was not present, and Ikol felt the solitude even more for it.
He was here out of a sliver of hope. Things had gone badly, to say the least. He’d crossed a line, and he hadn’t done anything to walk it back -- hadn’t made any motions to apologize. Of course no one was going to come up here. That sliver of hope was paper-thin, the thinness breadth of a single page. What was he thinking? That Loki would forgive him without him stepping up in any respect? That Sylvie would see beyond what she’d witnessed? That he wouldn’t have to do any of the work himself?
He didn’t forgive himself, so why should anyone else?
Thori rolled over on the rooftop surface with a stick in his mouth. He was perfectly content with chewing it as a creature of simple desires. Ikol watched him go, growling and scratching at the stick. Cinders fell away from it as his fire breath charred it -- he’d probably work through it before long with his impressive talents for destruction.
Ikol folded up one knee to his chest and hugged it. “Thori, watch the edge…”
“DESTROYER OF GREENERY.” Thori replied.
“Yes, but it’s a… it’s a long way down. Come on back here.”
Prior to departing, Rey had handed the lone tennis ball from her backpack over to BB-8. "You two can entertain one another, can't you?" She had asked as BB-8 tilted to the side to look past Rey to her recently arrived companion, then back to Rey, before going back and forth to accentuate his point. BB-8 was not terribly interested in the company of a golden retriever but with Rey asking him to, after a moment, he made a resounding beeping sound. "Thank you, Beebee," she said with genuine appreciation. A hand reached out to pat his dome before she stood up properly from her crouched position in front of the droid. As she passed by Pilot, she ruffed his ears and nudged her head towards BB-8. "You two have fun," she stated before slipping her hands into the pockets of her jacket.
While she'd done some minor socialization since returning, she'd been largely choosing to not seek it out and to keep to herself. It'd been critical to give herself some time to process the vastness of everything that had occurred in less than a week and she'd chosen to do this largely with solitude the first day. With the new housing arrangements, and establishing new norms with different roommates, this had been rather achievable. They didn't find it odd that she chose to keep to her room with her dog curled up by her side. Or, if they did, they didn't question it to her as Eleanor would have.
Admittedly, Rey missed Eleanor.
Still, she wasn't going to isolate herself away for long and by the time that evening had arrived, she was willing to venture out in search of a friend. With both her companions from home occupied, she made way out from Butler hall and glanced around with minor consideration of where she may find Ikol. Eyes eventually landed on the theater and she hesitated only briefly before she pushed off to make her way towards it. Invitations had been extended to her previously and she was fairly certain she wasn't going to be met with an unfriendly welcome if she were to venture up to the rooftop.
When she finished climbing the stairs, there was only a minor pause to allow a quick knock before she cracked open the roof access door. "Loki?" She said gently before peeking out to peer out onto the rooftop.
The knock startled him, but only because most didn’t bother. The usual culprits would welcome themselves. And, typically, they were using portals or other means to find their way up here. Ikol turned to the door, brow furrowed, but then he heard the voice and placed it immediately as Rey’s.
Rey. In all his inner turmoil and dwelling on Lokis, he’d forgotten that Derleth was a place with other people. It was the selfishness of a Loki at work: they often got so hung up on their own problems that they lost track of how others were faring. Or, at least, he did. And so he was doing.
He could feign not being here, but he also had the knowledge that Rey possessed an extra sense about other life forces. For better or worse, he had no escape. And he had no lines at the ready, which was about as flat-footed as he ever felt. He was a mess. Might as well just embrace his best effort to seem otherwise and contend with it as it came.
“Here,” he called to her. “As expected. It’s just Thori and I, I’m afraid. The others are…” Not coming. Maybe not for some time. “Out and about.”
She was pressed against the door, using it as a barrier between herself and entry, with only her head slightly poking out as a hand gripped the edge. When her eyes finally landed on him, she watched for a moment before she heard the affirmation. The smallest smile grew in regards to the expectation of being able to find him here.
It was true enough.
Pulling in a breath, she extracted herself from the door and made way further onto the roof, shutting it behind her. Hands went back to her jacket and she let her gaze fall down to Thori with his stick. "I wasn't necessarily looking for them," she said easily as she moved closer to him.
She glanced down to him without taking a seat yet. "May I join?"
He lifted a hand and gestured around at the otherwise vacated roof. “My kingdom is yours.” The words were more breezy than he felt -- but despite losing that finesse earlier in the week -- he had mastered the art of putting on airs. He could fake it, and he could make it. And if not, then…
That was a bridge to cross when it happened.
“It’s good to have a week back here, isn’t it? Brisk morning air on the rooftop. For a given value of brisk. Or morning. Honestly, I’m still not sure of timeframes here.” He notched his chin on his retracted knee and then turned to look up at Rey. “How has the week been treating you so far? New roommates to your liking?” He asked.
She remained standing for a few more beats with her eyes following the sweeping gesture. If the point was to accentuate his lack of company then it was made. Paired with the statement from earlier, she wondered to herself if this was something of a pain point. Letting the thought be tabled for the moment, she took her seat next to his side and easily followed his example by pulling both of her knees to her chest.
Both arms wrapped around them before she rested her chin against her kneecaps and squared her eyes onto Thori.
"It's a welcome stillness," she agreed. If the choice was uncertainty of a week ahead in some foreign space or the slight familiarity of Derleth? She was going to choose the University without question. It allowed for the potential for calm and quiet and that was what Rey wanted the most at the present moment in time. "I don't think any of us are truly aware of timeframes," she added before tilting her head to lean against her arm with her gaze focusing on him.
"I've not tried to meet them all yet," she admitted. Her quad had separate bedrooms and she'd easily kept her door shut. But that hadn't truly been the question. She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders, "My dog showed. That's about the best I can say for this week so far."
"Time is a funny thing, anyway," Ikol offered, although the reason for such a statement wasn't voiced. It was being a non-human among humans and creatures with shorter lifespans. It was being thousands of years old mentally, but wearing the body whose age could be counted on two hands. In Derleth, time was stretched and condensed at once, and then it was stacked out of order. What a mess. He didn't know how to think of it here beyond counting nebulous weeks. "But what a relief that no one expects a birthday party or gifts, aye?"
Ikol sighed, feeling at odds with his usual humor. He was trying. Maybe he should try less. Rey was a pensive type and didn't need him to put on a phony smile.
"I've a room with someone else. Unsure how that may work out yet. Hence…" He once again indicated the roof, with a less grandiose motion.
"Wait, your dog is here?"
"I used to care so much about it," she noted, eyes dropping briefly to look at the space between them, as she recalled the sound of metal scraping against the interior of the AT-AT she'd chosen as a home all those years ago. Thousands of marking lined across the wall. And even once she'd reached Chicago, and uncertainty had mounted through her as to when she might be reunited with loved ones, a similar practice had been taken through less destructive methods. A paper calendar with a sharpie hung in the galley of the Millenium Falcon. "Yes. A relief."
Her eyes lifted back to him with the sigh and she watched him for a moment. The notion of offering to sit in silence resonated inside of her but she held back for now. Instead she just gave a weak smile. "At least you've carved out a place to escape," she noted. At this moment, she'd do just about anything to be able to hop into a cockpit or slide into the hammock in the Captain's quarters. She missed having her own personal space.
Then a gentle nod was given. "He was there when I woke up."
"A place to escape, but, really, never far from everything and everyone." Loki was down there somewhere and the odds of crossing paths was bolstered by the lack of space. Sylvie was his roommate. Their lives were interwoven and avoidance was effort, work.
He caught Rey's look and weak smile and mustered one of his own in return. She had to be feeling something equally draining. He could sense it -- not because of mind powers, but because of the small things between breaths. The quiet. They were both here because they'd surveyed options and knew that the rooftop was the one place where judgements were not going to be passed between them.
"Maybe he can meet Thori. I'll make sure the furred flamethrower knows friends are not for igniting." He looked over at the hel-hound, who had taken to watching something or someone below near the Green. His ears were attentive and posture was alert. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he was a creature of Hel. His nature was just as much loyal companion as it was beast.
Rey was certain it wasn't possible to get too far from others when it came to Derleth. If an aim was to break away, with significant distance between oneself and the remainder of the occupants, then it'd have to wait until a week where the Campus was visiting somewhere outside of this restless void. And it wasn't going to be possible this week, at the very least. "That just means they are close by when you are ready for them," she mused, shifting her gaze out to the edge of the rooftop.
"Pie would enjoy someone more his speed, I'm sure. For now I've asked Beebee to spend the afternoon with him. He's thrilled about it."
Rocking back some, she unfolded her arms to catch herself on her palms. "What about you? Has the week been treating you kindly?"
“A point,” Ikol resigned to admitting. In some cases he could see the silver lining of people being close enough, but he was thoroughly determined to have a bleak outlook right now. “And one taken as a good one.”
He gave a nod to the loose plans for a dog meetup, but it was more because he’d barely worked through that when she had asked about his week so far. His answer at first was silence. Had the week been treating him kindly? It was a problem of which noun was performing the verb. The week had been perfectly standard as far as Derleth went. He had been the one imposing his own verbs onto others, and, in a manner… onto himself.
As Rey leaned back, Ikol turned slightly to give her a look that was a little less suited to his face. It was a slightly concerned look, something almost worried. “Would you like the truth, or would you be happy to hear that it’s all a smooth transaction as of late?”
Brows came together with his question and she let her gaze remain fixed ahead as she pondered her own response. It was telling without him going into any further detail. Clearly, something had gone wrong and paired with earlier statements, she found herself frowning as her mind worked ahead of any confession.
"I'd like you to tell me whatever you'd prefer." Her head leaned back then, just enough to catch his eyes, and she held his gaze momentarily before, "I'll even pretend to believe it's the truth if you go with the latter."
What good fortune he had to find someone so amenable. Maybe it was her benefit of not really knowing a Loki all that well from before her stint traveling between other worlds. Maybe it was his benefit that she afforded him escapes, if he needed.
He scooted forward and away from the wall that was his backrest, and then snagged one of the pillows that had become part of the loft hangout. It was thrust beneath his head as he reclined fully back to stare upward into the nothingness above.
“I guess the details don’t really matter, do they?” A rhetorical question. He folded his arms behind his head. “Do you believe that it’s choice or nature that makes someone good? I thought the first -- surely the first can override the second. Now, I’m not sure.”
Another shift was made as he moved to get himself comfortable. She sat up fully but pivoted herself so she was facing towards him before she crossed her legs together with her hands slipping back into the jacket pockets. She pulled in on it, holding it close, as though it were an embrace from the one who'd gifted it to her. In regard to his rhetorical question? She gave a small shake of her head in agreement. Details could matter but it depended on nuisance and circumstance.
His second question, however, gave her pause and she let it sit between them. Her very own real insecurities felt tied to that question. Memories had been thrust on her not too long ago, just weeks before she'd come to Derleth, that had made her doubt her own self. Her mentors had believed in her but she'd feared what she could become if she slipped. She bit down on her inner lip and dipped her head down.
"I have to believe it is the first."
The void was without clouds, without birds. It was every bit as unnatural a phenomenon as he was with his stolen body and memories thrust together from several different lifetimes. If there was a place to hold him captive, maybe Derleth was appropriate. He just couldn’t account for why other people were here. Actual good people. The whole theory unraveled on the basis of those who were truly selfless and well-meaning. It was something he’d tried to learn how to be, but it always seemed a gap too wide and far to conquer.
“Would you mind if I asked you to believe in that for me, as well?” He asked. There was no confession here, even if his words were telling in their own way. “I… I think I’m having trouble with the notion of it.”
"You don't need to ask. I already do."
Margo may have felt it unwise to trust a trickster god. She'd made her stance on this clear the moment she was aware they were present. Rey had spoken against this notion. Every experience she'd had thus far with Ikol had reinforced that he was someone to place her trust in. She doubted that anything that may have occurred since they'd last spoken could change this outlook for her.
Lifting her eyes to look across at him, "I think we often have the most trouble when it comes to ourselves."
He didn’t know what he expected her to say. It was a silly request, really. It was silly, but it was asking for some faith in his ability to not be a monster -- faith that Rey was affording out of some intuition or because her life had taught her to see… possibility, he supposed. He couldn’t really say. From the depths of his own dark thoughts, he was having trouble finding the edge of his resignation to know how to double back and regain some feeling of control over his path.
He leaned on her words. ‘I already do.’ It was a rope tossed down into the pit of his mind, one that he gripped until he felt a little more secure.
“You’ll stay here for a bit?” He finally asked after what might have been a full minute of quiet contemplation.
The silence settled in. She thought back to moments in the Falcon, with Finn's concern bearing down on her, and the fear of what she was capable of doing radiating through her. Finger tips flexed in the pockets of her jacket and there was a sense of memory of the power that had erupted from them, shooting bolts out into the sky when Ben had pushed her too far in the struggle of power to try and save others. The very moment that had silenced dozens of lives and that had crept into her nightmares for weeks after; both in the settlement of the Resistance and in the comfort of Whitespire.
Finn had tried so hard in those moments, right after, to reassure her of who he felt her to be. And doubt had pushed forward.
It still lingered and it was right there at the surface now. She needed to believe in the weight of their choices and of their responses. Guilt had ate at her almost immediately after the loss of control. She'd regretted it instantly and not just because of the fear of losing her friend. She regretted it because it wasn't who she wanted to be. The belief that they could overcome their own nature was too critical for her. She didn't know what it was that was making Ikol wrestle with his own similar question but she could understand how one could come to that point.
Sighing, she looked at him. "As long as you'll have me." Returning to her room was not something she yearned for, even with the company of Pilot. And seeking out her lover offered up the possibility of questions she didn't want to face. Here in Ikol's company?