Loki (fiorvalr) wrote in noexits, @ 2021-12-26 23:44:00 |
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Dear Mobius,
I find it difficult to properly address this letter as I recognize that you are not the Mobius I have come to know over the last decade. Likewise, the contents of this letter may be equally uncomfortable for exactly that reason, but recent circumstances have forced me into a position of self-reflection whereby I believe it necessary to express certain feelings and reservations. And while I hope it does not complicate matters between you and your Loki, of whom I will speak later on, I believe it pertinent for me to share my sentiments in a concrete fashion. That way, should my Mobius return, he may also be aware of my current state and temperament.
I have tried my hardest to remain out of the spotlight this week for various reasons. The influx of imposters and alternate versions of people I have known—and yes, loved—for years, sometimes centuries, has left me in a perpetual state of discord. You were my one saving grace from giving in to my own foreign passenger who has, since the first day of the week, remained tucked away in the back of my mind. But your disappearance, particularly after such an important change in our kinship, has left me feeling abandoned. None of my children remember me. And I suddenly find myself questioning whether this fight requires my presence at all. What can I offer as a solution? I have isolated myself from supernatural politics for centuries. My desire for power and conquest is far behind me. A figment of my past. Little more than dust in the wind. I truly know very little that could improve circumstances here. And rallying people together is a trait I’ve long since lost. I gave up that particular trait the night I chose to remove myself from the trivial powerplays of the vampire world. But no longer having you or my fledglings has broken my spirit. And these discontinuous emotions have been made all the more frazzled by the death of the Stevie child. I know nought of her in this world, but my counterpart reeled upon hearing of her untimely death. And I fear he may now fight me for control of this corporeal state simply out of vengeance. Or desire for revenge.
Part of me wants to let him. After all, there are more of his companions here than mine. And I am ashamed of my lack of effort in searching for a resolution to the experiment. Perhaps this disregard on my part stems from some selfishness. I did not lose much in the experiment. Many of my friends and family were also trapped here. As were you. I had no reason to be anywhere else. But after listening to the newcomers I see the folly in my indifference. We know very little of this experiment. And if what happened to them happens here, then I risk losing everyone. Possibly forever. And that is not a risk I am willing to take.
I am also pained by the fear that the reset will arrive and you and I will no longer share the connection we have formed this week. It was not how I would have wished it. Such moments deserve care and consideration. We were rushed and it hurts me that I could not make it more meaningful. But we are bound together now. Bathed in each other’s blood. And the idea that you might wake up mortal in a few days aches my heart. The mere thought of it fills me with an inconsolable absence. As does the thought that I may never see my Mobius again. Or you your Loki—the one with whom you embraced at the edge of time.
But I digress. I am in a quandary. I cannot do much on my own. Although I have lived a long life, I am not a god. And maybe a god is what’s needed this week. I do not know if handing over the reins to my other self will aid anyone in their efforts to change this world, but I know from experience that you have never lied to me and your judgment, albeit misplaced as a hunter, has always been true. I know better than to ever trust myself. So, if you tell me to hand over control to the other, I shall. With the caveat, of course, that you will prevent him from doing anything rash. As I said, I do not know if he can help, but perhaps he has more to offer than I do. And perhaps it will do me good to step back and grieve my own losses this week.
I also apologize for not having the strength to say this to you directly, but I have always been more of myself in writing than in person. There’s little need for a facade when you have a pen and parchment.
Yours Eternal,
Loki