ǫᴜᴇᴇɴ ᴇʟsᴀ (icicles) wrote in noexits, @ 2021-10-26 10:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread/narrative, marvel (tv/movies): loki laufeyson, ₴ inactive: elsa, → week 023 (release the ghosts) |
WHO: Elsa & Loki
WHAT: Trying to discuss literature, getting slimed, and Elsa freezes the library then thaws it, you're welcome
WHERE: The library
WHEN: Day 3, somewhere's around there
WARNINGS: No, just a lot of OOZE
STATUS: Complete
She brought the cold with her everywhere, the aroma of frosted berries, fir needles swaying in the cooling air. Soft and chilly, slick ice and the brush of powdery snowflakes. It was the scent of winter, but Elsa never really noticed the chill. When she was especially anxious, her steps would leave a trail of snow and ice behind her - but luckily, she was in better control of herself these days. Only it seemed like her control would be tested here, in the likes - whatever this place was. A university campus, technically - Elsa had never been to one before, not really. Her education was all private tutors and studying in hushed silence, separated from her sister who received her own education befitting of royalty. Elsa had always been more of a diligent student, however - though she’d be the first to admit that Anna was much more proficient at swordsmanship than her. It balanced out. Her dress, turquoise and long, glittered with what looked like ice crystals - maybe they were. She’d designed this outfit herself, as she was something of a budding artist - and the light purple cloak concealed much of it, letting her sort of hunker down into her own dress as she considered where she could potentially get something else to wear. That would come later though - books were first. The library on this campus was small, and smelled of old paper and even a bit of magic (that smoky, spiced aroma - at least to her) - she was eager to have a look around, though when she touched a book that she hadn’t been expecting to be bound with skin, she was taken by surprise. Elsa jumped, startled slightly, a flurry of a snow cloud kicked up before she snapped her fingers and re-focused to gather the dancing flakes that had briefly fallen. Before, years ago, she wouldn't have been able to even do that much. She told herself many times that she'd come so far - she wanted to use her magic for good now. “Wasn’t expecting the flesh books, but alright - that’s my fault,” she chuckled nervously, deciding to just keep her hands to herself for now. “That surprised me the first time, as well,” Loki admitted from the opposite side of the stacks. He pulled a large book off the shelf and peered at Elsa through the space it made. “Some of them don’t like to be touched. No shock there, I suppose. But the first book I picked up made of human flesh was a bit ticklish. It didn’t giggle, per se, but it felt like it was laughing. Let me tell you, that’s a sensation you won’t quickly forget.” He smiled through the hole in the shelf. It was one of his slightly arrogant and overconfident grins. Very Loki, many would say. It was the smile he used when he was trying to oversell his wit and his more amusing nature. When he was trying to impress. As opposed to the grin he used when he was making a pointed jab at someone’s idiocy or destroying cities. This was more boyish and playful. But not without a hint of something devious. It was hard to take the mischief out of the God of Mischief, after all. Some things went hand in hand. He slipped the book back on the shelf and took a few steps down the aisle, fingers running along the leather spines. Well, to be fair, most of them were faux leather. Only a few were covered in the hide of a once-living creature. Occasionally there’d be a book covered in a more cloth-like material and he’d stop to read the title. If there was any rhyme or reason to the arrangement, Loki hadn’t quite figured it out. But that was a perfect description of Derleth in its entirety. And he suspected they weren’t meant to find patterns in this particular pocket universe. Something whooshed past the library windows. Probably one of the ghosts everyone was complaining about. Loki didn’t know why, but they’d yet to really bother him. Sure, he’d had a few run-ins, but none of the spiritual entities really seemed keen on causing him harm. Maybe they just didn’t want to deal with his drama. Or maybe they saw him as one of their own. Loki had died in his world, after all. Maybe that made him some kind of ghost as well. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, but he nudged it off by focusing on another distraction. The scent of conifers and freshly fallen snow that followed Elsa around reminded Loki of Asgard in the winter. It was calming in a way he couldn’t describe. Asgard was home, but Loki had always fought against it being his home. Now, every little scent or sensation that brought forth memories of his past had him longing for the nostalgia of a place he never thought he’d miss. He took another book off the shelf and looked at her again. “What do you usually read back in Arendelle?” “I suppose I can’t blame a book, if it doesn’t like to be touched,” Elsa replied with wry amusement - sounded familiar, anyway. Strangers touching her she could do without, but she was free with her affections to those she cared about. And while not much about her was warm, her return smile right now was - it was sun beaming straight into the sea, despite the touch of melancholy that came along with knowing she was separated from her sister once more. It was not the first time it had happened, however. Anna was also more than capable of handling things - for Elsa, it was disappointing to be away from such a unique and prosperous time in the kingdom, however. There was peace. Here - there wasn’t. At least not what she could tell. Made all the more obvious by the creepy sensation which skittered up and down her spine when a ghost breezed by the window. “And, oh, what don’t I read,” she laughed softly, trying for another book - this one was most certainly bound in cloth, so it seemed safe; she was still gentle when she handled the selection, always preferring to handle books with care anyway. “I like Art History the most. History in general, really. Poetry and philosophy are nice too. Fiction can be good for an escape - my ladies-in-waiting are particularly fond of...the racier sort of books.” Had she picked one or two up on occasion? Maybe. She’d been curious though. “What are your favorites to read?” “I’ll read anything and everything,” Loki said, rather matter-of-factly. “And I have. Complete opposite of my brother in that sense. He was always competing with his friends in sports and physical activities. He enjoys hitting things. No surprise that his weapon of choice is a hammer, I suppose. Definitely puts braun before brains. But that works for him. I spent most of my youth inside with my studies. And books. I read every major work of Asgardian literature before I was fifteen. By the time I’d finished with my tutors and moved onto my magical studies, I’d read the palace library thrice through.” It wasn’t supposed to sound arrogant, even if it did. Loki really did have a passion for learning. Despite his Frost Giant genes, he’d never have the physical strength of his brother. Even many Asgardian warriors could topple him in hand-to-hand combat. That was why Loki used tricks and magic to overpower people. And his wit, of course. Usually it worked, but sometimes he grew overconfident. That’s where his downfall lay. Narcissism often got the better of him. Which was why he was working to better that part of his nature. “I used to be quite fond of politics, philosophy, and religion. I think the spiritual beliefs of different realms are quite intriguing. But maybe that’s not surprising either seeing as how I accidentally influenced some once or twice on Midgard. Got in a bit of trouble for that. But you can’t really blame me. A boy gets bored after a few hundred years of digging in the same sandbox.” Loki tapped his fingers along the spines. One of the books twitched underneath his touch and he stopped to read the title. It was written in an unfamiliar language. One that even he couldn’t quite translate. Asgardians were normally quite good with unknown languages thanks to the Allspeak. But it had its drawbacks when it came to the written word. He made a note to himself to look that book up later to see if he could figure it out. A ghastly howl echoed from outside and Loki turned his attention to the window again. There was a cold chill in the library, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the ghosts or his new companion. He shrugged it off as nothing. “Poetry and literature are probably my favorites. I enjoy the cadence and the embellishments of the creative word. Language has such nuance and subtlety. And I like seeing how authors of fiction translate complex emotions into simple turns of phrase.” Loki was also always searching for a way to connect with his own feelings. He’d also kept them at a distance. Feeling too deeply was dangerous, especially when one wasn’t quite certain they were capable of returning said feelings. As such, Loki read to understand himself in a way. Although that often led to more confusion. At mention of racier novels, his smirk turned darker. “There are a few scandalous tales here as well. Should you decide to indulge in the pastimes of your ladies, that is. I even found one that involved a sea monster.” Elsa understood a passion for learning - it was a passion she also shared, and she had gone through the contents of her own castle’s library as well. Her tutors always had her on a studying schedule and given the fact that the castle gates had remained closed until her coronation, well - she really didn’t have any friends or company she could talk to besides those within the walls of her home. Books too - books were good company then, and they were good company now. “As someone who has struggled with understanding the nuances of emotion - yes, I appreciate that too,” she said, crystalline eyes twinkling a little - how nice to talk to someone just as thrilled about books as she was. “And stories of tragedy over triumph, with or without involving sea monsters. I’m used to stories being told about me - “ It was somewhat strange to consider, so she didn’t dwell on it - either the written words mixed her up with her aunt Ingrid, or just got other parts completely backward; but that was all a part of that little town in Maine and, on a larger scale, the Land Without Magic - all of their lives, their stories, passed on and on and on because life carried on and everything came from something. “But most of the time it doesn’t seem accurate.” Oddly, she shivered then - which was worrying because Elsa wasn’t one to shiver. This was a different kind of cold. The from the beyond kind of cold. “Just out of curiosity, have you ever read anything about dealing with ghosts?” she asked nervously, setting her current book choice down so she could anxiously wring her hands as she was wont to do. Loki raised a brow through the gap in the books when Elsa admitted to struggling with her emotions. That was unexpected. Not that he’d judged her quickly based on her comments on the net board, but he was always under the perception that everyone else had a closer and more intimate comprehension of personal feelings than he did. It was one of Loki’s natural instincts and biases when he met other people. The type of preconceived assumption that was weaved deep into the complicated layers of his psyche. Part of his poor self image, one might even say. Because, yes, Loki did struggle with seeing himself as worthy when compared to others even if he pretended otherwise. In fact, it wasn’t until he met Sylvie and the other two Lokis that he realized he wasn’t the only one who had a love-hate relationship with himself and the way he connected (or failed to connect) with others. But it was curious to him that this woman — this queen who was not a Loki — had those same feelings. Or, at least, used to. He replaced another book on the shelf, blocking himself from Elsa’s view and then weaved his way around the stacks until he was in the same aisle as her. Loki kept an appropriate distance because he didn’t know her. And because he respected royalty. But mostly because he didn’t trust anyone not to have ulterior motives. “People used to tell stories about me as well. Mostly on Midgard. I was quite popular. Some of the stories were true, but there was a lot of poetic license over the years. The truth remained relatively obscure, although some of the more unbelievable events actually held the course. Telephone is a funny game after a millennium. Now they tell different stories, but who’s to say those won’t be different in another thousand years?” Loki took a few steps closer. When she asked her question, he shook his head. “Derleth rarely allows us the opportunity to prepare for anything. If the answer to dealing with ghosts was in any of these pages it’d be so obscure we probably wouldn’t even notice it after the fact. Thankfully, however, these things only last a week. At least, that’s been the pattern so far.” He took another step forward but the floor began to freeze beneath his foot. An icy layer of frost coated the parquet floor, quickly spreading beneath the shelves and throughout the room, climbing up the rows of books like a creeping vine of ice. “Is that y—” But his question was cut off by a screeching howl, like a train whistling through a tunnel. A gust of wind rushed through the library. Loki looked beyond Elsa to see a swirling transparent cloud forming at the end of the aisle. “Speaking of ghosts...” That was most certainly not her. Elsa shook her head, as if to confirm, but it seemed apparent she wasn’t responsible for their current...situation. The screeching sounded like a miniature tornado, or maybe an orchestra beginning their warmup exercises - either way, it was not pleasant and it caught her off guard. She jumped, startled, and backed up - accidentally bumping into Loki, and was fully prepared to suggest that they just leave when the ghost that had tracked them down just...lashed out. It all happened at once. The ghost blatantly screamed and then ejected a metric ton of - slime? It was definitely slime. Green, resembling radioactive waste or the shade of whatever ran from your nose when you were ill - it splashed over Elsa (and Loki too - sorry Loki, this was probably her fault somehow) and stuck to her, and she lashed out back. Ice formed solidly beneath them, frosting the ground like a birthday cake and her fingers flexed and her hands thrust forward, a winter storm streaming forth - snow and cold. Spikes of ice shot up in a burst of magic, twisting and turning, forming a cage that trapped the ghost - it wasn’t very large but it was still screaming, ramming itself against the magical ice bars. Now it was a veritable winter wonderland in the library, freezing cold, feeling like the breath of winter. And weren’t these aesthetics stunning? Every surface suddenly sprouting beautiful, intricate ice crystals? Probably not, but. “I’m sorry,” she apologized frantically, realizing she’d just frozen the whole library and now she probably looked like the witch she was. “It’s - I don’t think that cage will hold forever though.” Loki held his ground when Elsa stumbled backward and into him. He carefully placed his hands on the sides of her arms until she regained her balance. Then he stepped around and stood beside her in the aisle of mismatched books, watching as the whirlwind of a ghost began to manifest into something more concrete. His instinct, as always, was to reach into the depths of his magical pockets and reveal his hidden daggers. But he’d learned early after the spectral release on the second day that blades had very little power against these entities. And his magical sword — the one he knew to be his by birthright despite never seeing it before it arrived in Derleth a few weeks ago — was still in the hands (teeth?) of the reptilian Loki. He really needed to confront that damn alligator and retrieve his property. But it seemed that every time Loki had a free moment, Derleth threw another catastrophe at him. Hel, he couldn’t even enjoy a pleasant jaunt through the library without— What in the Nine bloody Realms. —getting slimed. Loki’s arms, which had been posed to use magic against the pestersome poltergeist, fell limply at his sides. The green ooze, which had a distinctly putrid and ectoplasmic odor, dripped from his face and torso. His hair stuck to the skin on his neck in tacky clumps. And while he should have reacted by actually doing something, he was far too irritated to even begin thinking about what could be helpful. Thankfully, Elsa wasn’t quite as much of a complainer as he was. Loki withheld his urge to groan — because that was no behavior to impress another royal household — and watched as Elsa’s powers froze the library, trapping the ghost in a cage of ice. The ghost rattled against the frozen bars, it’s otherworldly howl wailing through the confines. Loki waved his right hand in a circular motion, sending a bright green glow towards the crystalline cage, encasing it in a soundproof bubble. The ghost’s piercing shrills were reduced to a muffled moan. “The only one who should be apologizing is the creature who just tried to burst my eardrums. And ruined my suit!” Loki shook a fist at the ghost. “This is fine Asgardian—you know what? That thing doesn’t even deserve to know how much this outfit cost.” Loki rolled his head from one side to the other, as though cracking his neck, and his appearance magically cleaned itself up. From top to bottom. As though he’d never had a hair out of place. He made a gagging expression. “Guh. I still feel like I need a shower.” He glanced over at Elsa. “Oh, here. Allow me.” Loki waved his fingers at her and within a moment she, too, was cleaned up. No more ghost guts. Loki even fixed the braid in her hair so there were fewer flyaways around her face. That ghostly smell, however, still lingered. The ice cage jostled and jerked in the air. “You’re right. That prison isn’t going to hold long. And it’s probably going to be miffed when it gets out.” Oh. That was handy - the cleaning magic, that is. Elsa blinked, a look of surprise still in powdery blue eyes, though she managed a prim and proper “thank you” in response as Loki fixed her hair. She had created her dress herself, it was essentially an ice construct made into something wearable - same with her shoes - so while she supposed she could just do that again, she much preferred the cleanliness route. Though Loki was right. The need for many, many showers had taken hold. She smelled like ozone (pungent, a bit sweet - like the charge of electricity) and he did too. But that was the ectoplasm, she supposed. “It can stay miffed,” she huffed and what was the phrase? Die mad about it? Die mad about it, ghost. More wintry magic crackled from the palm of her hand, and she went ahead and just froze the ghost entirely, encasing what she could see in a shell of ice. She wasn’t sure how long that would hold either but she’d try to at least free the library from its icy decorations. “Okay, let me just - I can thaw everything...” Probably. She only had to think of love. Anna and Kristoff. Arendelle. Even her aunt Ingrid - she’d made mistakes but she’d atoned for them in the end, and Elsa still missed her and occasionally when she thought about how Ingrid had only wanted her sister’s love and then she finally had that, her own heart cracked a little - CRACK, there was a louder sound, the ice giving way as the library began to be released from its frozen grip; Elsa breathed a sigh of relief, as the magic dissipated (and it didn’t leave anything a wet, slushy mess either). “Maybe we should go?” she suggested. “Unless you had other plans for the ghost.” It was still in the ice cage, and probably irritated. Loki was a little envious of Elsa’s ice magic. He watched carefully as the frost seemed to crackle from her palms and spread out through her fingertips like snowflakes freezing on glass. Or on the surface of a lake. It was beautiful in its crystalline precision. If he hadn’t been prepared for it, he might have even been a little enamoured by how elegant it looked. But it made Loki feel a little out of place. It reminded him of Jotun magic. The powers of the Frost Giants. His people by birth and biology. That was the magic he should have grown up with. Those were the people, daft and dimwitted as so many of them were, that he should have been ruling. But the memories of Jotunheim and learning of his heritage gave Loki nothing but pain. Because those events had all been buried under lies. So many unforgivable and unnecessary lies. Lies that led to deaths. Many of which Loki caused on his own because of his jealous rage. It was difficult not to associate winter with anger. But it was beautiful. And it was a chilly reminder that he was still hiding from part of himself. And that until he accepted that past and truth, he’d never be fully honest with anyone. Loki took another step to the side, giving Elsa room as she focused on thawing the library. He paid close attention to the ghost, his own hands raised in preparation should that entity escape its icy prison. He felt that CRACK through the floor and it jolted him, but he held his position. Then from the periphery of his eyes he watched as a warmth slowly filled the room, melting the frozen stacks and shelves without leaving any dampness behind. Loki was impressed. And he wasn’t very often. It was a nice feeling to be pleasantly surprised by a stranger. “Oh, I think we should just let it sit and think about what it’s done.” The ghost railed against the icy cage in response and Loki smirked. “Besides, I’d much rather see what else those polar powers of yours are capable of. And if the net board is to be believed, there are more than enough spooky spectres to practice on.” Loki held out an arm, motioning towards the door. “After you, Your Royal Highness.” He winked. “If you’re up to the challenge, of course.” Elsa was relieved that she wouldn’t be leaving the library a frozen tundra - because the ghost perhaps deserved that fate but these books didn’t. She’d have to be more careful though, admittedly, it was somewhat difficult when she was so jumpy thanks to all of these not-so-happy haunts infesting every nook and cranny of the campus. “Yes, I believe there will be plenty to practice on. May as well rise to the challenge,” she agreed, managing to catch her breath after that fun adventure. More to come, surely. “Thank you, your Royal Highness.” That was added with a smattering of rare playfulness, as she gave a bit of a curtsy (a dainty one, naturally, because Elsa was nothing if not dainty - except when she was freezing your internal organs or destroying crops) and headed for the door. Goodbye, ghost. Hello shower? The playfulness in her tone was encouraging. Loki was, admittedly, not very good at making friends. Allies, yes. Friends? Not really his specialty. And Derleth’s repetitive disaster scenarios made it even more difficult for him to find even footing or common ground with people. Of course, much of that was simply because Loki was, well, Loki. It wasn’t easy for him to see similarities between himself and other people or to find areas of common interest. After all, it wasn’t every day that one came across super-powered magic-oriented royals with a history of isolation, family trauma, sibling rivalry, and a bad habit of pushing anyone who ever cared about them away. … Except, maybe it was. In Derleth anyway. Not that Loki was going to get his hopes up for anything more than courteous book-related conversation. He didn’t want to. Nor did he need to. Mobius had made a good point to him recently about investing in people who made him feel like the person he wanted to be and to try not to assume more of them than he would of himself. Mobius also suggested not devoting his time to pretending to be something everyone expected of him. That might have been easier said than done in Loki’s case, but this seemed like as good a chance as any to start practicing new methods of ‘getting along.’ Because Loki had all the time in the world now to enjoy the things he couldn’t enjoy when he was trying to impress his father and win over the kingdom. And finding someone who was willing to discuss literature with him — and who could simultaneously hold their own during an attack — felt like someone who might be worth investing in. And, if nothing else, Loki needed to get closer to Elsa to find out what she used in her hair. He was envious of that glossy sheen. Loki waited for her to walk first and then he glanced back at the ghost. It was seething in its frozen cage, dark eyes following them. “Don’t go anywhere, Spooky.” The ghost growled and rattled against the icy bars, but Loki ignored him. He was already heading off after Elsa, only slowing his gait once they were side by side. |