|nishka//loki (nishka) wrote in paxletalelogs,|
@ 2017-10-15 10:24:00
|Entry tags:||loki, sigyn|
Me er eit gamalt tre med nysprungene knoppar
Who: Nish [Loki] and James [Sigyn]
What: Deities reunite as hosts sleep
Where: Dreams of Asgard
When: after this thread
For now, it was quiet.
Firstly, it felt like there had been another large supper that night, the Gods crammed into the long dining hall that seemed to stretch on and on and on, where they would feast upon roasted meats with succulent spices and an abundance of ale - ale that was so strong the fumes lingered, and one could incinerate a field of flowers just by breathing out a single breath. Liquid sloshing in golden mugs, falling off their intricately scrolled golden chairs, because everything was made of gold in Ásgarðr.
Secondly, it felt like one of those nights where Sigyn would put the children to bed, where peaceful sleep would take them for another night, and sometimes it was a task to get them to settle. Nari and Váli were as mischievous as their father sometimes; she expected to see them there, sticky honey all over their hands and smeared across their mouths.
But there was no one. Those beds were empty. Everyone was gone, and this was...wrong. It was only Sigyn, standing over them and watching. Waiting for the silence to break.
Footsteps echoed in the hall. Slow, hesitant, as if the owner was walking slowly through a museum, taking their time thoroughly admiring each exhibit.
Loki paused, looking up from his fingertips sliding over the rough-hewn wood table to the figure standing in the middle of the room.
“I knew it,” he drawled smoothly, a charming smile spreading across his handsome face, “the moment you arrived, I knew it.” There was relief in his voice, as if he’d been holding his breath, anxiously awaiting her arrival for days, perhaps centuries. His eyes traced her face, her form, with the thirst of a parched man.
“Did you?” Sigyn turned - she didn’t move from where she stood, not yet. First she took a moment to study him - the arctic chill about him, the edges and ice of his features that were so familiar to her. It was an odd myriad of emotions that were all shaken up and jumbled within her - she wasn’t about to run into his arms and pretend everything was fine, but even just looking at him sparked feeling within her. It would always be like that.
She wore a sleeveless cream-coloured gown made of satiny fabric - it hung long and loose, but she didn’t quite get lost in it; the fabric clung to her regardless. Her hair was also loose, flowing down her back, save for the halo braid which was her signature, the crowning glory.
“I hope you’re not being an ungracious guest toward your host,” she added, casting another glance at the empty beds. “If we have returned, they must have too.” Sigyn longed for her sons - being a mother was important to her, and to have that taken away? It cut deeply.
He smiled that charming smile of his and stepped closer, “I promise I’ve been on my best behaviour,” he said, catching her eyes to show the hint of mischief. That good humour fell from his features when she drew his eyes to the beds that could only be for their children. He frowned.
“I have not found them,” he said apologetically, stepping closer still, daring to rest one cool hand on her warm shoulder. “It could be that they have not yet been born,” he suggested softly. Then, after a moment, “or that we have not yet borne them…”
She didn’t quite believe that, since Loki and ‘best behaviour’ didn’t often go hand-in-hand. But Sigyn would do her part to remind him that they could not afford for history to repeat itself. Not to mention their existences were muted, their very life force and the godly power they once took for granted. “Good,” she replied, watching him draw nearer with pale eyes, a blue tipping over into silver they were so light. “If you destroy your new home, I would be without you once more.” They’d be back tumbling through the abyss, some kind of peerless void, until waking up and having to start all over again.
Her hand covered his, and she gave it a squeeze, turning toward him so that they were more chest-to-chest rather than her facing away. “There is a ways to go before that happens,” she said, though admittedly, the thought of them getting another chance with their sons was appealing. Even if the logistics would have to be worked out. Their mortal hosts would have to work out.
“I cannot lose them again.”
His eyes were locked with hers, as if fascinated by their shifting colours. “I won’t let that happen this time,” he said, his voice lowering slightly, his other hand lifting to cup the delicate curve of her jaw. “This time, things will be different. I spent a long time searching for this host; many generations of her family have offered me refuge while I waited for you. Now we can be a family again.” His thumb caressing her cheek with its slight chill, his face inching closer to hers.
Well. They needed to talk about something that caught her attention - so, stopping the debonair Loki before his carved-from-ice features could get any closer, Sigyn essentially grabbed his face - squished his cheeks between her fingers, rather, before letting go. It was a bit of a playful move to put him in his place - the discussion place.
“You’ve waited for me? Truly?” she wanted to know, curious about that part - and also about how he wouldn’t let ‘that’ happen again. ‘That’ was the loss of everything they had ever known, unfathomable ‘that,’ bound in the guts of their dead son after one was killed by the other. “I need to hear how will not let it happen again, Loki.”
Ragnarök could not have been avoided no matter what they did - it was a prophecy, set in stone, and whether or not the overall corruption of the world was the sole cause or symptom was an ongoing debate. Though Loki had certainly played his part in everything - he’d become sick and twisted after the death of his sons, which was understandable but not excusable.
He wasn’t happy about being pushed away, but he allowed it, a slight grin at her obvious playfulness playing lightly on his lips. “I endure this existence because I know that eventually, those I care about will join me in it,” he said with a rare softness in his features that only she and their children ever saw. “You know I am not complete without you, Sigyn, or our boys,” he cooed, reaching for her but stopping just short of touching her skin.
“This world is different than anything we’ve ever known,” he explained, “humans have changed, and we must change along with them. And maybe...if this place is different enough...maybe we can change fate as well.” Did the Norns exist in this place? Could Ragnarök even happen now when the major players were scattered, some still lost to the Ginnungagap? And most importantly…
“Fenrir is dead,” he said, as if that was proof enough of his hopes. “His host...he was here. And now he’s dead. No Fenrir, no Ragnarök,” he concluded, as if it was all settled.
There were different pieces of the puzzle that went into Ragnarök - Fenrir was a large part, but not the only player. "Was his host just as monstrous as he was?" she inquired, and hoped not. She was curious. Jörmungandr could be someone else entirely, Hel could be a akin to a common housefly - annoying, but largely inconsequential to Sigyn. This life, this rebirth, was full of surprises.
Loki’s jaw set in a hard line, the muscles working for a moment. “His host...did monstrous things to my host,” he said with difficulty. He’d tried so hard to keep her safe, tried to use his influence to get her to back off, but he had almost failed completely. “I couldn’t protect her, and so another stepped in to do that.” A regret that still stung, but a wry smile flitted across his features. “Of all who could have helped, it was Freyr...and now I owe him a great debt.”
She wanted to believe that they could change fate - that it was fluid, not stone.Though she supposed it was true that if a good cause was created, a good effect would follow - likewise, the opposite was true when it came to a terrible strain of cause and effect. Which was what she hoped to avoid.
"No matter what, I am with you, Loki." She touched him this time, hands gently framing his face. "You need not be so angry now. You've seen how the anger and desire for revenge destroyed us."
His hands lifted to cover hers on his face, a soft sigh of contentment escaping his lips at the gesture. He could feel the pent up anger and tension slowly bleeding out of him. Fenrir was gone, the mortal threat to his host had passed. And his beloved had returned to him. He nodded in her hands, his eyes opening and locking with hers.
“I missed you, beloved,” he murmured in the space between them. “I felt...lost, without your counsel.”
The news about Fenrir was startling (though perhaps not surprising). Saddening. And it made Sigyn wish she had been here to help protect the mortal as well - of course she would have without a doubt; and the man whose body she had been reborn within would feel the guilt for not being there.
But guilt could be useful, and not something to be afraid of. It didn’t have to burn someone out from the inside until there was nothing left but a shell. But instead, it could drive you onward to be better. That was what she believed.
“And I missed you, älskling. Mostly how utterly infuriating you are.”
He grinned, an utterly charming and maddening thing. “You may be pleasantly surprised then; I do believe this host has...tempered...some of my more infuriating qualities,” he murmured.
He had always been taller than her (in these forms), and she lifted on her toes to be closer - like when he’d tried before. Only she didn’t stop shrinking the space in between them; she draped her arms around his neck. “This is not ideal, meeting like this. But it’s all we have,” she sighed.
“For now,” he replied, his hands gently sliding up her back, pulling her flush against him and finally pressing his lips to hers. What was meant to be soft and gentle and welcoming was instead deep and needy.
They had been separated for years, decades...possibly centuries. He had been adrift without his other half, wandering through hosts searching for his beloved. They had found each other briefly, for what had seemed a blink of an eye, and then the mortal world conspired to tear them apart again. “I won't let you go this time,” he promised, “we're together again, that's all that matters.”
She kissed him in return, fingers curling in his hair - there was a passion present there, and with Sigyn, it was of the protective sort. She was a being defined by love; love for her husband, her children, defined by the strength of her heart and a fierce protector of Loki’s - tasked with keeping it safe because she was the only one who did. All while filled with a passion that bounced back and forth in her jumble of thoughts - you’re mine I’m yours you’re mine; not very coherent, but the plethora of feelings felt injected right into her veins.
In James’ veins.
“I’m here,” she promised, pressing another kiss to the sharp edge of Loki’s jawline. The need was a strong feeling too, but she couldn’t stay. Not this time - she could sense the end of this interlude, an ending that arrived all too quickly. “And I’ll see you soon.”
A brief flutter of fear gripped his heart when it became clear that she was leaving. Already, he could feel Nish beginning to surface into wakefulness in the real world, shifting in bed as sleep slowly lifted. The longer he stayed here, the more of this she would remember. “Just a few minutes more,” he pleaded, though he knew it was no good. His hand gripped hers tightly, bringing it to his lips.
“She loves him. It's only a matter of time. We'll be together again, I promise.” And if he had to use his influence to make her remember that, he would.
“I know, älskling. He loves her too.” Sigyn was a weak presence in the mind of her mortal vessel, but she was growing stronger and stronger, bit by bit. Eventually the man would know - he would understand, with a deeper amount of clarity.
James was waking now too, however, and no doubt he’d be confused - the woman he dreamed of, with the flowing dresses and the golden hair with its crown braid, he didn’t understand they were basically one and the same. But he would. Everything would make sense, in time.