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Tweak says, "I've always wanted a peg leg."

ɑgɛɳt ɱѳɓiuร (jetskiing) wrote in noexits,
@ 2022-03-13 09:08:00

Entry tags:

!log/thread/narrative, marvel (tv/movies): loki laufeyson, ₴ inactive: mobius m. mobius 2, → week 032 (dungeons & dragons)

dungeons & dragons - day 5

Mobius & Loki

WHAT: Tracking down a magical item called Nolzur's Marvelous Pigments (and Mobius rides the Lokicorn)
WHERE: Thieves Guild Territory, then to MAGICAL UNICORN GLEN~
WHEN: Day 5-ish?
WARNINGS: Violence in the beginning, then some tension, then it gets resolved and there's some sensuality and a FTB (Loki's human for most of this log tho, thanks)
STATUS: Complete

Hopefully Mobius had a decent grip because Loki immediately bolted from a standstill to a gallop.

Loki had no idea that a quest to find a book could be so bloody exciting! Or so bloody, for that matter.

Everything had been going well. They’d been searching the city for days trying to get some information on various magical items and where to find them. Some people shied away from saying anything, but others were much more pliable once a few gold coins were set upon a table. And eventually the trail led them to a hole-in-the-wall tavern in the grungy black market district. The Slippery Eel, it was called. There was nothing bright and fantastical about this particular area of the city. In fact, lack of technology aside, it reminded Loki quite a bit of some of the darker districts of Sakaar. The kinds of places where scrappers and scavengers went to spend their poorly-earned pay after kidnapping unsuspecting folk from across the galaxy to perform in the Grandmaster’s games.

It was quite suspenseful. If not a bit nerve wracking. But the peering eyes and suspicious grunts whenever Mobius inquired about one magical item or another weren’t quite as unsettling as the whispers behind them.

Loki couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he was almost certain they were talking about him. And even though he was confident that he hadn’t accidentally let slip his unicorn appearance, he couldn’t help but feel like some of the people in the shadows knew. Like they could see right through the magic Mobius’s ring created for him.

And what they saw was worth a small fortune in pieces and parts.

That’s when all hel broke loose.

Loki didn’t know what had happened. It was all so fast. A flash! One moment they were negotiating with a particularly ugly orc and the next the entire tavern was in an uproar. They were being attacked from all angles. Loki knew he could probably do more damage if he reverted to his unicorn form, but he didn’t. Instead he grabbed a steak knife off the table and swung it at his attackers. A slice here! A stab there! He didn’t have the same grace and speed that he did in his normal form, but he wasn’t completely useless. Apparently that unicorn core of his had some measure of strength and agility. He ducked, just missing the swing of an axe. Then he kicked a chair at an elf that leapt over the bar counter, causing him to trip.

Loki glanced back over at Mobius. “Now would be a great time to show off some of that magic of yours!”

He dodged a jug of ale that came flying at him from across the room. “If you’re not too busy, of course!”

Well, this was certainly an adventure - Mobius would give it that. Then again, what else could he have been expecting? Searching for a specific wooden box containing a brush with specific pigments, ones that were magical in nature, wasn’t something that he thought might be easy - they also couldn’t just go to a shop and pluck it off the shelf either. No, it had to be a whole thing.

A whole thing in a tavern that smelled curdled and really bitter, like a rotting storm drain, and tasted like it too - your feet stuck to the floor and the alleyways were littered; he didn’t plan to stay long and hoped that they wouldn’t have to, but apparently wandering into this part of the neighborhood with a unicorn just ensured trouble drifted their way.

Like hell he’d let them have this unicorn though - Loki was his. And never did Mobius think that he’d be the one pulling the magic protection card, but here they were.

“Right, I’ve got it,” he assured - they were surrounded, orcs and angry halflings coming at them from all sides. He’d been practicing his magic quite a bit and thought he had a decent handle on it by now - so when he cast, when spectral clocks lit up in a haze around him and illuminated his gaze, and when the resonant sounds of a bell tower chimed somewhere in the beyond, it was apparent this spell might be a doozy.

It was a wall, actually - an invisible one that he used as a barrier, angled to smack the oncoming threats in the face. They hit a force field that they couldn’t see, a bunch of them flying backward and slamming into the visible soot-streaked walls (had this place been on fire recently?). But the spell gave Mobius some space to catch up to Loki, so they could fight better as a duo.

Loki didn’t see the magical barrier—that was the point of it—until one of those orcs came barreling towards him and smacked right into it. Loki paused for a moment, a split second what? moment, before he broke out in raucous laughter.

“Ha! That’s right, you half-witted thick-skulled beer-bellied underbite! That’s magic! Go on! Do it again! Come at me again!” Loki taunted the orc.

And, not being the smartest barbarian in the room, the orc rammed into the magic barrier again, sending himself flying backwards and into a row of dagger-wielding halflings. Loki laughed again. This time with a disbelieving snort. Probably a bit of the unicorn in him. (There was an almost braying neigh sound to the end of his laughs, after all.) He’d fought some dumb villains, or would-be villains, in his time but the occupants of this tavern certainly took the cake when it came to stupidity.

A frying pan came soaring across the room, aimed for his head. It bounced off the barrier and whacked a rogue in the face.

Loki glanced back at Mobius, catching a quick glimpse of those hazy spectral clocks. Was it bad that Mobius turned him on this way? Was it bad that he was slightly reminded of Mr. Tesseract? Granted, that version of Mobius had been straight up crazy. No question about that. But Loki found powerful, magic-wielding Mobius to be incredibly attractive. The way he cast his spells, face drawn so serious, hand movements mechanically graceful. It just tingled something inside Loki. And he had to forcibly take his eyes off Mobius for fear that he would spend the rest of the night standing there, staring at him with wanting eyes while biting his lip.

Oh. The orc was back on his feet again. Loki rolled his eyes and stabbed him in the gut.

“Did we get what we need? Should I do that dizzying unicorn portal thing? I’m 75% certain I can do it without landing us in the middle of a wall! No promises though!”

Ouch - that gut stab looked particularly painful. Mobius winced but recognized that the half-orc with the dagger wound was the greedy merchant who had what they needed. He didn’t feel too bad when he rifled around through pockets, since black market merchants especially were out here pretending, tricking, lying, cheating, and other -ings - making pacts too, no doubt, and he and Loki had already been led here by those in the slightly more reputable (but not by much) Kitchen Sink, who warned them that they ought to watch their backs and their fronts while in Thieves Guild territory.

A key was procured - it led to the trunk which had what they wanted, no doubt. Maybe some other goodies too.

“There’s a wagon outside, but it’s probably guarded,” he said - since the siren song of spoiled ale that had the faint aftertaste of a skunk (probably - Mobius couldn’t imagine it was any good) called to the merchant, but no one left their shit unattended in this neck of the woods. That was just lunacy. “As soon as we grab the box, do the unicorn portal thing. Though if you want to flirt with the horses first I guess that’s alright,” he grinned teasingly and was it time to go? It was time to go.

The longer Loki was here, looking like a sparkly money-making snack to these ruffians, the more dangerous shit would become.

“Bold of you to assume I haven’t already flirted with the horses.” Wink, wink. Loki thought about pulling the knife out of the orc, but, eh, it wasn’t that good of a knife anyway. So he just left it where it was, buried in the orc’s skunk-odor gut. Less messy that way as well.

Then Mobius did that assertive, plan-procuring thing he did where he outlined how they should proceed. Also something of a turn on, if not a bit pedantic. But Loki liked it. What could he say? He enjoyed being told what to do by Mobius. Maybe it was the humorous banter that came out of Mobius’s instructions. Or maybe it was the hilarity of knowing that in their normal forms Mobius had literally no power whatsoever. Or maybe it was their newfound agreement about their relationship. Or perhaps it was simply Loki’s submissive side really craving a no-nonsense dominant in his life. Whatever the reason, Loki just looked at Mobius with a self-satisfied, slightly lovesick smirk when Mobius laid out the plan for him.

“Oh! I see! You want a distraction. I can be a distraction.” And distract was exactly what Loki did. Thanks to the magical ring Mobius had created for him, Loki had control over his human and equine state. So he immediately shifted into his unicorn form, which of course created a sudden stir of confusion among the thieves who were still left standing, and he bolted out of the tavern and into the thoroughfare.

And the rogues guarding the wagon? Well, they took the bait immediately. They instantly leapt off the wagon, momentarily forgetting about the rare item they were protecting, and tried to close in on Loki. Loki who, of course, was strutting about like a show horse on display at a carnival fair. Mane-flipping, sparkling, and putting on his very best ‘look at me! look at me!’ impression. But anytime one of them got too close, however, he lunged at them with his horn.

What a natural.

They were exiting the tavern, then. Mobius hurried out, key in hand, and hopped onto the wagon now that Lokicorn was leading the rogues on a wild equine chase. The wagon wasn’t particularly ostentatious - looked like it was built from old wood and scraps lying around from other projects; there was a sun window in the door and what appeared to be fence wood used as siding (plenty of splinters to be had - he wouldn’t touch it). Inside it was a little bit more pleasant, at least, redwood panels and plenty of storage.

Trunks, a few of them - most opened without the need of a key, but Mobius went through them quickly anyway. Lots of cloth, ranging from cheap white silk to blue linen - also some various animal hides, like reindeer or bear. A barrel of salt had a loose lid, there was a pot of turmeric and also one of pickled ginger - the root still looked decent, it hadn’t gone bad, but Mobius wasn’t in need of a palette cleanser right now.

He wished he could call out to Loki to tell him you’re doing great, sweetie - attracting attention while he was robbing a wagon, however, was not in their best interests. Finally he found the correct trunk and rummaged through it, with a click of the key in the lock. The wooden box was buried under some more cheap fabric and when he opened it and saw the brush and pot of pigments, he breathed a sigh of relief - because he might have have to go back to the Kitchen Sink and look very sternly at the idiots who told them where this was, for a bit of gold, if they’d been lying.

Tucking the small box away, he turned to go. And headed outside to cast another barrier spell, the few rogues that hadn’t been stabbed with a unicorn horn treating themselves to a smack against the invisible wall and landing with an ouch - the clocks chimed someplace they couldn’t reach, far-off, and he finally did call to Loki. “You ready, honey?” he asked, and since Loki was in beautiful horse form right now, Mobius patted his mane - he didn’t have a saddle, or a bridle, but he’d ride bareback (ha).

Using one of the now-unconscious bodies (well, he hoped they were just unconscious) as propulsion, he hoisted himself up on the back of the Lokicorn. “Please don’t knock me off - “ Gods, he’d probably break his neck but the giddy part of him really wanted to say he rode his boyfriend, like, literally.

“For the record, I am not and never will be responsible for your inability to remain in a mounted position. If you fall off it’s your own damn fault and it’ll be a coin toss whether I come back for you. Today I’m feeling generous because you’re exuding a lot of confidence with your creepy clock magic, but I make no promises.” Loki didn’t even bend down to help Mobius get onto his back. Because he was beauty and grace and all things sparkly in the world. There was no way he was adjusting this elegant posture just so Mobius could climb up. Mobius was a big boy. He could figure it out himself. Or not.

But he did shake his mane back to give Mobius something to hold onto. Unless Mobius was really scared and wanted to wrap his arms around his neck, but Loki wasn’t going to offer that as a suggestion because if they were going to do this then he wanted them to look good doing it.

Oh, shit. The rogues were coming after them.

Time to go!

Hopefully Mobius had a decent grip because Loki immediately bolted from a standstill to a gallop. He could have made it easier and just fey stepped them into a different location, but Loki was feeling very ostentatious today. He wanted to make a scene and put on a show. And he also wanted to see if Mobius could hang on. Not that this was a test or anything but—

It was absolutely a test.

The rogues, those that were still conscious that is, followed after them on foot for half a block before Loki outran them, leaving them in the proverbial dust. Which should have been the end of it, until an arrow came whooshing passed his head, just barely missing his ear.

“What the—” He craned his neck backwards to see an archer chasing after them on horseback. “Oh, you have got to be joking.”

Loki huffed, the steam from his nostrils twisting in the cool air. He had no desire to injure a poor defenseless horse simply because the rider was an idiot. And even though he really wanted to stick someone with his horn he knew that would only cause more complications with Mobius on his back. Time to be the bigger man in the situation. Or the bigger horse. Or whatever.

“Hold on,” Loki said. Then he increased his speed. Another arrow shot through the air, spiraling towards them from the side. And just before it hit Loki fey stepped, teleporting them (and hopefully not the arrow) to another location.

The only problem was that Loki hadn’t quite figured out how to choose his destinations. The power itself was instinctual. They could have ended up back at the tavern or on top of the Irkalla wall or in some mystical unicorn glen with waterfalls and butterflies. He had no idea. He just hoped for the best!

Poof!

No need to offer the neck hold as a suggestion, because Mobius was already there - he’d been holding onto Loki’s mane but as soon as the arrows started flying and the speed increased, he slid his arms around his horse lover’s neck and held on for dear life. At the very least, he was able to clench with his thigh and leg muscles so he didn’t bounce too badly - but since he lacked a proper saddle it was definitely eliciting that pukey kind of feeling. The ‘spinning teacups ride, you’re drunk and everything looks like a funhouse mirror illusion, wait, don’t open your eyes’ kind of thing - dizziness that had electricity surging through him, still spinning and spinning and holy shit.

“I’m holding on,” he wheezed, ducking a little bit when he felt the breeze of the arrow - it didn’t hit him, obviously, but it came pretty close. Far too close for comfort, thus, teleporting them out of here seemed to be in their best interests. “Didn’t realize you liked the creepy clock magic so much - “

That sentence came out kind of awkwardly, and muffled, because his face was pressed in Loki’s flowing mane.

He didn’t open his eyes until they were elsewhere - it seemed a lot calmer. There was a buzzing sound, nature’s music, bees on wildflowers and a flow of the color green that looked like waves - that’s all it was, a lot of green, and peacefulness, and bright flower petals and warm sunshine. A fae glen, maybe? Where unicorns frolicked? He wasn’t sure, and thought he heard the soothing sound of rippling water in the distance.

“Um.” Mobius was still clinging to Loki’s neck. “Well, this is quaint. I like it.” He’d do his best to dismount, to unfold his limbs like an accordion.

There weren’t a lot of obvious magical benefits to being a unicorn. Loki didn’t know spells, per se. As a horse he couldn’t train as a mage or cleric or any of those things. The magic that he had was natural and instinctive. It flowed through him constantly. He could still feel it in his human form, guiding his behavior, keeping him on guard. He knew, for example, that he could use his horn to heal someone. He sensed that it had the ability to close a wound and remove abrasions. Maybe even more. Maybe even heal a broken heart or revive someone from unconsciousness. Loki didn’t know how to use this magic, but something innate inside of him did. Just as something inside of him knew where to fey step in order to save them from trouble.

There was an exotic brightness to all of the colors in the glen. Lush green plants, vibrant pastel flowers. Pinks, blues, yellows. The bees had an upbeat tone to their buzzing that was matched in melody by the songbirds perched in the trees. A sweet scent of fresh warmth—like the first breeze of a summer evening—wafted with every flutter of a butterfly’s wing. Even the sky itself was at peace in its diverging hues, drifting in that ever changing color from day to night where bright melting orange seeped into deep purple. The stars were already twinkling overhead while the sun still hovered halfway over the horizon. This was in complete contradiction to the apparent time of day in the black market. It was as though time didn’t exist here. As though this place was a pocket outside the realm of temporality.

It was safe. Protected.

Loki didn’t recognize it. But it felt like home. It elicited the same feelings in him that he imagined he’d experience if he were ever to see Asgard again. And though he was still a horse, horn shimmering in an almost effervescent glow and mane coated in diamond-esque sparkles, it brought the glimmer of a tear to his eye.

He instantly relaxed.

Then he bent down to offer Mobius the ease of dismounting. And once Mobius was settled on his own two feet, Loki used the ring to revert to his human form. Sadly he hadn’t quite managed to figure out how to transform clothes as well. But he was getting so used to the constant nudity he almost didn’t notice anymore. And he knew none of the creatures in this place would mind.

“I know this place,” Loki said, taking a few barefoot steps in the direction of the trickling water. He knew that somewhere, deeper in the forest surrounding the glen was a waterfall. And he knew in that place there would be others like himself. Well, not exactly like him. But kin of some kind.

He glanced back at Mobius, expression emboldened by a brilliant boyish smile. “This place is perfection. We could stay here for the rest of the week and not worry about anything. Just the two of us. Honeymooning in paradise.”

Mobius landed on two feet, swaying slightly, but he felt energized somehow - maybe it was the way the twilight looked here in this glen, like gossamer, a thin haze of a moth’s wings covering everything. The colors were beautiful too, purple sky from a watercolor painting and those glittering stars beginning to peek through the puffy clouds. “Not a bad plan,” he agreed, and the phrase honeymooning in paradise made him blush slightly - he knew he’d made Loki a ring (enchanted one, actually) but he wished he had one for himself too. A ring that matched, nothing that needed to be ostentatious but rather something simple. For no reason. Just so they’d match.

Maybe it was a silly hope but he didn’t care - it made him happy to consider. So did the thought of marriage, and he’d thought about it a lot ever since he off-handedly brought it up to gently tease during that epic hangover.

“Is this where the unicorns hide out?” he asked, since he wasn’t familiar with their lore necessarily - but it made sense that they’d need a safe place to congregate, given how hunted they were. How rare and lovely - and speaking of that?

Mobius moved closer to Loki, slipping arms around him from behind. “Vakker,” he purred, nosing at Loki’s neck. Beautiful - not just because he was naked (though that was indeed a beautiful sight) but because he always was, unicorn or otherwise. “Jeg elsker deg.”

Loki wasn’t oblivious. He recognized that Mobius’s jokes, not unlike his own, were twinged with a certain amount of truth. He saw the way Mobius looked at him when he thought he wasn’t watching. With an almost painful passion in his eyes. As though he’d spent the entirety of his life—the life he could remember—wishing for nothing more than to cross that delicate divide between man and god. Between patient observer and reckless participant. And even if Mobius had never said those three little words to Loki, Loki would have known. Because some sentiments superseded speech. Some adorations didn’t need to be told. Loki knew almost from the moment he met Mobius how Mobius felt about him. And so while his own words were carefully chosen, and his hesitation deliberately cautious, so as not to put either of them in a position that they couldn’t fulfill as lovers, Loki wasn’t blind. He knew exactly what he was doing. And he knew that in many ways it wasn’t fair. But he also knew that Mobius didn’t expect this relationship to be easy.

Nothing about Loki was easy. Despite how the rest of Derleth might have perceived him.

“I think so,” Loki said, attention caught by a rustle on the wind. Dandelion seeds twisting in a breeze before diving towards the ground. “I think I can hear their heartbeats. They’re shy.”

And then Mobius pulled him into a backwards embrace. Loki lowered his chin to his chest and brought up his hands to hold onto those entrapping arms.

“Did you get what you were looking for?” he asked, voice lowered to a huskier whisper. The tone was almost reminiscent of his Variant from the previous week. Then he gave a deliberate pause, allowing the question (which purposefully had two answers) to settle in Mobius’s mind before Loki continued. “Your paint-by-numbers book? Did you get it?”

“I got it,” Mobius chuckled, teeth scraping beneath Loki’s ear - it was a bit of a bite but not painful. Just something soothed with the tip of his tongue a moment later. “Think it’ll come in handy at some point.” If it had been lifted from anyone but a band of shady merchants, then he might feel a little guilty - but business simply worked that way here, in a world filled with powerful and dangerous creatures. This particularly green hideaway was serene - not every place was in the Free City of Irkalla, however.

Derleth may have thought it was giving them a break - but was it? Mobius guessed if you wanted to sit in a stupor in the taverns and pour booze down your gullet for a whole week, sure. But there was too much to do - too many opportunities, too much to grab that would help them claw at just a little bit of an advantage and hold on because in their world, they had to take what they could get.

His hold became a bit more snug, the timbre of Loki’s voice making him pleasantly shiver a bit. “Hope the shy unicorns aren’t voyeurs,” he added.

“Why? Are you afraid they’re going to judge you?” A tingling sensation worked its way down Loki’s neck when Mobius’s teeth grazed over his ear. Then he lolled his head backwards to get a glance at his—say it—lover. “Because there’s nothing to judge, Mobius. You are perfect.”

And, for once in his life, Loki managed to offer a compliment without any hint of sarcasm or ridicule. Who was this strange new Loki? This genuine god who suddenly lowered himself to the masses? It must have been odd to outsiders. To see this shift in his disposition and his composure. The unexpected flattery. The soft expressions. The admiring gaze. The playful banter. It was as though a heavy weight—something burdened and crafted by fear—had been lifted off his shoulders. Like he didn’t have to be afraid of people judging him. Because while not everyone liked Loki. Everyone did seem to like Mobius. And if Mobius liked him. Well, then others would have to assume there was something more to Loki than what met the eye. Because surely someone as logical and intelligent and generous as Mobius wouldn’t invest in a materialistic, power-hungry narcissist. Not unless there was something deeper. Not unless there was something more.

Loki squirmed in Mobius’s firm grip, slowly slinking around so they could face each other. He shook his hair back over his shoulders and wrapped his arms around Mobius in a copycat embrace.

“So, tell me how this new magic we just stole is supposed to work. You paint something and it comes into being?” Loki placed a taunting kiss to Mobius’s lower lip. “What if we painted a door to another universe? Will it take us there? Could we … go to Asgard? Or Planet Vegas? Evil Derleth?”

You are perfect made Mobius blush again - more than a blush, really, he just felt all these fireworks in his veins, a warmth and a glow that had nothing to do with the brassy sheen of his magic. It was its own kind of magic, here in the unicorn hideaway with the stars looking so silver, like little spear points poking through black velvet up there in the sky. He made a thoughtful kind of humming sound, pleased, as his hands slid down Loki’s back and settled in the lower portion - dangerous toeing the line to filling his palms with The Greatest Ass, but it was his own way of taunting a little.

Though he’d take all the kisses possible. “The Timedoors don’t cross universes so I don’t know if this brand of magic will,” he said, in between those kisses, words mumbled against Loki’s rosebud unicorn-in-human-form lips. “But we can try. Asgard though, definitely - an experiment with Evil Derleth doesn’t seem like it’d yield any positive results no matter what.”

And he wasn’t quite ready to go back and see his variant - he had to hope that those stuck there got their shit together to some degree, and figured out how to finally help each other, but Space King Loki had been mad about the pruning stick. Some more time to cool off was probably in their best interests.

Planet Vegas, however? Yeah, he’d like to see that place too. Sounded fun.

“Yes, but … If you paint a door and you as the artist consciously say that this is a door capable of crossing space and time … Then shouldn’t the magic reflect that? If I painted a door, for example, and said, ‘This is my childhood bedroom door and behind it is my room on Asgard in the Royal Palace of Valaskjalf. The one that overlooks the Rainbow Bridge and the crystalline waters that flow down from the fjords.’ Would that not be what I find on the other side? Because if not, then what good is it? Sure I could draw a cloak to cover myself. Or a key for a lock. But those are just parlor tricks. For all the work that went into finding this, I have loftier expectations.”

Loki’s fingers trailed along the stitching of Mobius’s garments. There was a teasing coyness to the glances he occasionally gave when their gazes crossed. Then he’d look away, idly distracted by the feel of the fabric or the song of nature on the warm breeze. It was as though he were intoxicated on the glen itself. As though each sweet inhale of air invigorated him with a persistent need to touch and kiss and claim Mobius’s attention.

“Think of all the places we could go. You and me. Everyday in another world. Another universe. Another time. Two immortal kings experiencing every possible temporality. Every outcome our own. We’d be untouchable.” Loki worked his fingers over the buttons of Mobius’s tunic. One undone. Then another. “Try it. Paint something for me now. Something for us.”

He wished. He really did. Could it be that easy? Just robbing some crooked, greedy merchants - and that would solve their problems with not being able to travel? Only one way to find out, Mobius supposed.

“Well, good point - I guess we’ll see,” he smiled a bit, fingers trailing down smooth, unblemished skin - the muscles of Loki’s back were just as elegant as he was. And he added another kiss, longer this time, and lingering, as he gave Loki a chance to undo those buttons. “I’ll start with something smaller on a scale, just to test it out.” To test if the will of the artist transferred to what they were attempting to create.

Mobius needed a surface, so he chose a small patch of grass - it was soft and very green, a lush blanket and almost looked artificial. But he removed the wooden box from his traveler’s pack and opened it up, the brush in his left hand (he was left-handed, a fun fact). That brush was dipped into one of the pigments, and he began to carefully paint with a squint of pale blue eyes. He went for flowers - not a lot of them. Just a patch as small as the selected grass rectangle - from the grass those flowers sprouted, however, becoming three-dimensional and solidified. Real.

It wasn’t an entire Asgard palace garden, but some of the flora found there perhaps - vibrant colors to the petals; these, specifically, were roses. Glittering gold and silver that shined like moonbeams, rare colors not found anywhere else. “Do they look familiar?” Mobius asked. They definitely smelled heavenly.

Loki didn’t hide a disappointed sigh when Mobius stepped away from him in order to set up his little painting experiment. The sudden emptiness of Mobius’s body against his own left him cold and Loki sat down on the grass in order to hide his obvious dismay. Although he’d never say it aloud, it was in those moments when they were physically separated that Loki felt truly alone. As though someone had ripped away part of his soul and left him broken, a piece of himself missing. The warm piece. The rest of him was merely a cold and barren shell. It bothered him to recognize that about himself. To realize how much Mobius had come to mean to him. Because if this was how Loki felt when Mobius stopped hugging him, how would Loki feel if Mobius left him? Or worse. If Derleth took him away?

His mouth drew into a tight frown as he watched Mobius arrange the brushes and paints before he began testing out the magic. Loki didn’t recognize the flowers. Not at first. It wasn’t until they blossomed from a two-dimensional image into real tactile plants that Loki’s breath caught in his throat.

He stared at the flowers, chest tightening, pulse racing. Of course he recognized them. He remembered them as clearly as if he’d seen them yesterday. They were the Asgardian equivalent to a rose—similar in appearance but not entirely the same as those found on Midgard. Very rare. Very expensive. His mother’s garden had once been full of them, the gold and silver shine to the petals glittering in the morning light. In the spring they filled the palace with a very specific scent. And Loki could imagine that aroma from his memory as though he were standing beside her while his mother trimmed the leaves and warned him to mind the thorns.

Loki’s eyes glistened, but he held back the tears. He refused to allow himself to become unnecessarily sentimental over a pair of flowers. But, really? Of all the things Mobius could have painted—A picnic blanket? A bottle of champagne? A velvet robe? No. He had to paint something capable of reminding Loki of everything he missed. Of all he’d lost.

“Cute,” Loki said, tone terse. Clearly he wasn’t quite as enthusiastic about the gesture as Mobius was. Hel, he kind of wanted to be a unicorn again. Even a drunk one. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with this pain.

What?

The hurt on Mobius’s face was apparent. His expression fell - it felt like being stabbed again.

Because why would Loki think he’d done anything to cause him pain - especially when two seconds ago he’d been talking about his childhood bedroom. Not to mention he wanted to see something that wasn’t a parlor trick, and what the hell else was Mobius supposed to paint? What would have been good enough?

He didn’t know, but he wasn’t dealing with the whiplash - pick a lane, Loki. And once you picked one, then come and find him.

“I’m sorry. You were just talking about Asgard and it sounded beautiful, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he started, and then cut himself off with a purse of lips. What did it even matter? He put the lid back on the pigment jar, screwing it into place. The brush was shut in the box too and he tucked it into his pack for later. “You know what? Forget it.” He hoisted the pack onto his shoulders again, buttoning his shirt. “I’ll find my way back.”

Or - well, whatever. They’d gotten here because of a poof and he didn’t know how to leave and he couldn’t exactly walk back home, so he guessed he’d just wander and listen to the water and watch the glimmer of what looked like fireflies flitting about, until he could somehow figure out a way to return to what passed as civilization. Maybe his phone worked and someone at Butler Hall could turn the dial to UNICORN GLEN OF EMOTIONAL TORMENT.

Well, they were off to a splendid start. Had they even made it forty-eight hours yet? Twenty-four? Before Loki put their relationship on an emotional roller coaster that went from zero to sixty in half a second.

He felt bad about it the minute he saw Mobius’s face. Instantaneous regret. But that didn’t change the fact that Loki’d had the reaction he did. He didn’t do well navigating his feelings, particularly those that reminded him of his past and his failures and his losses. Memories of his mother were the worst because he would have done anything to be with her. He’d said as much when she was there for those few short days in Derleth. Days he had to share with other Lokis. And Loki didn’t want to share. Not then. Not now. Gods, he would have begged her to take him with her if he could. Anything not to feel the overwhelming guilt and torment of losing her again.

But Loki’s wishes rarely ever came true. And now he was pushing away the one person who was willing to fill that void in Loki’s life.

What was wrong with him?

“Wait,” Loki pleaded. He crawled back to his feet and followed after Mobius. “Mobius, please. I’m … I didn’t …”

He stumbled over his words because, in truth, what could he say? His reaction had been irrational. Ungrateful. Rude. He knew that. But Loki’s temper was always one wrong look or one false step away from skyrocketing. That was something he really needed to change.

He reached out and caught Mobius by the sleeve. “Stop, please. Don’t leave. I … I didn’t mean to be like that. I’m sorry. This is all just—”

Too much? Too fast? Too real?

Loki frowned. “I’ll take you back if you want.”

They both had a temper, but Mobius’s fuse was a lot longer - he didn’t know if it burned any slower, because once something set him off it was a locomotive barreling off the rails toward a cliff with no chance of stopping; it just felt like the distance between the beginning to that was greater for him than many others, due to a millennia of crafting patience from solid gold to suit him. He had a high tolerance for bullshit but that well of patience wasn’t never-ending, since he was only human.

He also didn’t play games. If he wanted to say something, he said it. If he needed space, he’d take it - it wouldn’t be the end of things, and he was the type where if he told his partner he’d be back after a twenty-minute walk to clear his head then he’d come back. Stating your intentions was important and so was giving someone peace of mind for them to know that he wasn’t trying to find a way out of the conversation or looking to just go off to devise the next argumentative tactic.

But he didn’t need space now. He just turned, facing Loki with a gaze that shifted into fond exasperation. “Next time you want me to paint a four-poster bed or something, just tell me,” he said, because clearly his guessing tactics needed some work. He cupped Loki’s face in his hands and kissed him. “We don’t have to go. I like it here.”

Probably he would have just found a place to sleep - painted himself a bed, with nature sounds in the background as white noise to lull him into dreamland.

There was a new look on Loki’s face when Mobius turned to face him. Terror. That deep emotional fear of being left alone. The soul piercing ache that he’d gone too far. That he’d pushed Mobius over his breaking point. That he’d proved everyone right by destroying something good and beautiful. Because that’s what Loki was good at, after all. Loki didn’t know how to nurture love and affection. His talents were in deception and destruction. His gift was lying. He didn’t know how to be part of a team. Loki had always been alone. And everyone over the years had convinced Loki that he would always be alone.

Until Mobius. Mobius was the first person to make him feel like he could be more than himself. That he could be someone’s other half. Not better half because Loki was nowhere near that level of improvement. Not yet. But other half. Other half he thought he could do.

“I’m not good at this. And I don’t want to make excuses for myself.” But he could. He had so many reasons to explain why he was going to fail at this relationship. Why he was going to ruin things. Everything from his childhood to his present was proof of how this was going to go. The least of which being that unconscious-causing enchantment with his Variant last week. The effects of that were still causing his head to reel. He had so many excuses. Too many. But Mobius didn’t deserve to hear them. Because Loki knew better. “I don’t want to ruin this. I’m…”

…terrified of ruining this.

“I just wasn’t expecting to see something like that. I didn’t know I would feel so emotional about it.” Did that make him crazy? He felt a little crazy.

Mobius kissed him, but Loki didn’t look reassured. If anything he appeared even more desperate. As though he hadn’t heard Mobius’s decision to stay. Or, more likely, didn’t believe it. “Give me another chance to be better. I promise I’ll do better.”

“It’s okay,” Mobius curled a hand around the back of Loki’s neck, fingers slipping up into his hair. “I wouldn’t ever deliberately try to hurt you, though I recognize that I might accidentally sometimes. I think you know that, it’s just - we can’t control our emotions all the time.” Knowing it in your head was a lot different than feeling it in your heart - the heart was clearly a lot more knee-jerk, and there probably wasn’t any fixing that completely. Learning to temper it, yes, but fixing it meant cutting yourself off from emotions entirely and that wasn’t exactly worth it either.

A part of him couldn’t believe they were having this chat while Loki was just frolicking in the nude (didn’t serious talks require another cloak or trousers, at least? Or was that just Mobius?) and it was kind of amusing, but oh well. Mobius dragged his fingertips down Loki’s front, his torso, tracing the lines of ab muscle and the v-shape that led further south. As long as this work of art was here for him to appreciate, then he wasn’t going to cease - from top to bottom. “I know you’ll do better. So will I.”

Love reminded you that you mattered, that you weren’t alone. You took better care of yourself. Saw the good in the world - or at least, healthy love did that. Led to better habits. It wasn’t perfect, sure, but there was beauty in that too - because you could hide from your friends, you could even hide from yourself. But you couldn’t hide from who loved you, or who you loved - everything from insecurities to old, lingering hurt always came to light during that. Always.

To be fair, it was Mobius’s fault that Loki was standing there in the nude. He was the one with the magic, after all. The only thing Loki could do was turn himself back into a unicorn. And then technically he would still be naked. But it was also Mobius’s fault that Loki was holding back tears—both because of the flowers and the fear that he’d ruined everything by being unable to contain his own emotions.

The attention to his body helped, however. That was a distraction Loki could contend with. That was something he understood and could compartmentalize in his mind. Was that a healthy method of dealing with his emotions? No. But it was easier than actually working through his problems. But deciphering a thousand years worth of trauma and relationship fears in a magical unicorn glen probably wasn’t the best way to begin.

“Hold on a moment,” Loki said, catching Mobius’s hands before they could wander any further south. He wasn’t uncomfortable being naked. He wasn’t ashamed of his physique. He liked how he looked. And he liked the response his appearance elicited in others. But it did cause attention to waver away from his face and his words. And he wanted to be certain that Mobius heard him.

He clasped his fingers around Mobius’s hands and looked him directly in the eyes. His own eyes weren’t watery anymore, but they still had a glistening shine to them. The dampness of unspilled tears. “I wouldn’t deliberately hurt you either. I know I’m not perfect. Not at this. I might never be. But you make me want to try in a way I never have before.”

Loki gave a soft exhale. “And they’re the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen. Truly. I just wish they were the real thing. I wish we could appreciate them in Asgard.”

There was more he wished for, as well. But he didn’t want to turn this moment into anything more depressing than it already was. Perhaps in the future they could have that conversation.

Loki leaned forward and pressed his lips to Mobius’s mouth in a passionate kiss. Then he let go of his lover’s hands. “And forget the four-poster bed. I’ve always liked the grass.”

“I wish for that too,” Mobius murmured before the kiss nearly swept him off his feet - made him weak in the knees, actually. It was safety in its own way, an anchor in its own way, and he leaned into it so he could give as much back as possible. “And I don’t think anyone’s perfect at this, honey.” He definitely wasn’t - he just did his best, and wanted to keep improving because all of this was a work in progress and they had awhile (in theory) to get it right.

He looped his arms around Loki and went for another kiss that made him feel like he was swimming in a tub full of honey - it just shot him right up to those brilliant stars, and he loved that also. “Well, let’s find a decent patch of grass so you don’t have to be alone in your nakedness,” he chuckled and he supposed he’d take the blame for not covering Loki up with something like, you know, a cloak or actual pants.

But sue him. He liked the view and if he conveniently ‘forgot’ to transmute grass or flowers into a cloak, uh. Oops.

If only Loki had his normal abilities that week. His normal powers, his normal form. If he had, he would have made it up to Mobius tenfold. He’d use his magic in ways he was certain even the great Loki researcher had never seen before. All to please Mobius. Loki’s over-the-top form of an apology. He’d craft a moment so perfect that even Mobius would have to question the reality of it. That was how much Loki didn’t want to ruin this. That was how much he wanted to prove he could control himself. He’d devise an entire world for Mobius if he had to.

All the while completely unaware that illusions wouldn’t improve reality. Only the truth would. Only openness and honesty were necessary to show he was worthy. But Loki would figure that out eventually. He’d get there in time.

Thankfully Mobius was the most patient person in the universe. In all the universes.

Loki lingered in that second kiss longer than he anticipated. He didn’t have the strength of his normal form and power, and he felt himself beginning to get weak in the knees. A warm rush traveled from his mouth down to his belly. And with everything exposed there was no denying how much he wanted Mobius. Wanted him in any way Mobius would allow.

When Mobius pulled away to speak, Loki let out a small gasp. His lips were wet and shimmering. Cheeks blushed to a rosy tint. And his eyes, normally sharp in hue, took on a more vibrant shade of blue. Almost as though they’d been painted, flecks of purple and gold shimmering around the iris.

Loki wanted to say it. He wanted to say those words. But he didn’t know if that want came from his physical desire or from his flighty unicorn persona. So he didn’t say anything. Instead he took Mobius by the hand and tugged him further into the glen.

The moon hung in some kind of trance as it got darker and darker, and the stars sparkled like frost in the deep blue of the sky, rapidly turning to black velvet - Mobius wasn’t sure how much daylight they had left in the glen but it didn’t matter. He probably didn’t need it anyway. His hand found Loki’s, fingers lacing, and he let himself be tugged along - the air smelled so sweet, like it was summertime, and any fruit in this unicorn-laden part of the universe was getting ripe all at the same time. The perfume, whatever it was, happened to be intoxicating -

Or maybe it was Loki himself, he looked even more enticing right now - at ‘home’ in the glen where the rest of his temporary kind sought refuge.

Was this a good spot? He didn’t know but it seemed that way - and Mobius was eager to match in terms of nakedness, and to show he wasn’t mad (he wasn’t - he’d never been the type to really stay mad, even if he arrived there, because he didn’t like the way anger felt). So he got started on the buttons of his shirt again, and there weren’t many - it was like the clothing from this time period was either ridiculously complicated with all the bells and whistles of armor or just trousers with laces or something; in this case, he wasn’t too elaborately cloaked. “I still can’t believe how pretty you are,” he chuckled affectionately, boots unlacing too. “The unicorn life suits you.”

“Pretty?” Loki laughed. Not rudely. It was almost an embarrassed little chuckle. The kind where the gaze instinctively looked away from the person giving the compliment because the receiver couldn’t quite accept that someone would say something so absurd. Or believe it. As confident as Loki was in his body—and he was very confident—he’d never quite learned how to accept or appreciate real compliments. In the palace people paid him graces and favors because he was a prince. He’d never had many close friends. Or friends, at all. And while Thor would occasionally speak on Loki’s more impressive traits, they rarely had to do with his appearance. And ‘pretty’ was so personal. It was different than calling someone beautiful or handsome, both of which Loki was certain he was. Pretty seemed to suggest something more than skin deep. Something fragile. Something that required special care and attention. Something intimate.

It definitely wasn’t the first word to come to most people’s minds when they thought about him. In fact, Mobius was probably the only one in Derleth who saw that trait at all.

Pretty.

Loki was surprised by how that word made him feel. Like a maiden accepting her first dance at a ball. Nervous. Embarrassed. Shy. And a little smug.

“Well, as much as it suits me it doesn’t allow me to do the things I want to do. Like hold you. Or kiss you.” Loki smiled. “Although I did enjoy the feel of you on my back. And I think you did too.”

He licked his lower lip as he watched Mobius undress. He didn’t help. Normally he would have. (Or more likely he would have used magic to hurry him up.) But today he enjoyed the acting of watching; carefully memorizing the way in which Mobius’s fingers worked the buttons and undid the clasps on his attire. All whilst shrouded in that looming purple gleam of twilight against a backdrop of blinking fireflies.

“But I can always be a unicorn again in the future if you want me to. Or anything else you might want.” Loki gave Mobius a knowing look. “Shapeshifting is not a problem.”

“I did like it,” Mobius admitted, sounding perhaps a little bit more lecherous than he intended - but he was about to get naked in a unicorn glen and Loki was already there; of course he was feeling a certain type of way about that, and blood was rushing south and he may not be able to think of anything else to say besides a cobbled-together preeeeetty once Loki was done with him, and the opposite was true. “I want you to be whoever you’re comfortable being. But I did like - the lady form.”

That was probably obvious at the time but he felt it was important to actually say that, to express the appreciation. That form was just a lot different than what Mobius was used to - all he could recall was being with a man, since Loki was the first and had been a man at the time. When the small office was dimly lit and Mobius had, surprisingly, been so nervous. But he was certain he liked the aspects of being with a woman too, and he suddenly had the thought that he was one lucky person to have that shapeshifting aspect to enjoy.

There, pants off too - now he matched Loki, neither of them wearing a stitch. He sank to his knees, the grass soft as a gentle breath, almost like a dream. “Come here so I can show you what I want.”

Loki almost forgot that he was Mobius’s first when it came to physical intimacy. At least, the first as far as Mobius could remember. There was no saying what his life had been like before the TVA took him from his timeline and turned him into a bureaucrat with no past. He might have had a dozen lovers before then. Or maybe just one. He might have had a family. Children. Grandchildren, perhaps. Although, gray hair aside, Loki doubted he was that old. There was no way of knowing anything for sure. Not without reaching into Mobius’s head and searching. And Loki didn’t think that was wise. Which meant that Loki was his first. His first for everything.

That was a responsibility Loki never imagined he would have with someone.

“With you I think I’d be comfortable being anything. Man, woman, unicorn, snake. It doesn’t matter. It’s still me.” Loki’s lips turned upward into a reassuring smile. “I did enjoy being with you while I was a lady though. You were the perfect combination of gentleman and rascal. And you fit nicely.”

Loki’s breath caught in his throat again when Mobius removed the rest of his clothes. Most people didn’t look better with their clothes off than they did with them on. Loki would argue that Mobius did. It was a pity he hid himself under that bland suit most of the time. He may have been human, but he was well suited to these more eccentric attires. Loki made a mental note to pick up more cloaks and tunics for Mobius before they left.

Loki stepped closer and then knelt down in front of Mobius. The grass was cool against his knees. Then he leaned closer and pressed a kiss to his lover’s collar bone. “I’m here. Show me.”