it's not always swell
Dec 2, 2013 19:05:08 GMT -5
Post by Loki Odinsson on Dec 2, 2013 19:05:08 GMT -5
It was easy enough, as the night wore on, to pretend that nothing had changed, at least between Thor and Loki themselves. Obviously, the scenery and the entertainments it offered were very different now, but for the most part, their banter was the same as before. The odd hiccups in the conversation when one or the other of them stumbled into saying something uncomfortable grew fewer and fewer, until by the time they'd picked a film to go watch, it had pretty much vanished.
And then the film itself had to go and make everything weird again.
It was ostensibly a family film, about a self-centered young girl wishing her baby brother away to someone apparently called the Goblin King (the majority of the goblins were appropriately goblin-ish, if rather small, and cunningly represented by little animate dolls, but the King was played by a mortal rock star whose name Loki had encountered a few times in magazines and looked just enough like Herbert von Krolock for Loki to snort disparagingly when he entered but enough not like Herbert von Krolock for Loki to get over this objection within about half a scene) and having to embark on a quest to get him back before the baby became one of the wretched little goblins themselves. It was entertaining, and both of them enjoyed the songs to the point of raiding a record store after the film for two copies of the soundtrack album. Loki had been teleporting them around, but after this, he announced that they had to use his car so they could listen to it.
After about forty unnecessary minutes of driving and declaring to the world at large, or at least the inside of the car, that it reminded them of the babe with the power, Thor went home, entering the house with endearingly exaggerated care to not wake Megan, who was sleeping upstairs. Loki watched from the street.
He smiled ruefully. It might have been the moral of the film still hanging around in his head, but Loki didn't hate his brother now.
But the movie had brought other pressing issues to mind, and without much time to deal with them. Thor expected Loki's continued company, and Meg Giry was due to arrive in the morning, and the last time Meg and Loki had spoken, she had apparently thought he was some kind of demon trying to steal her soul away from the reaches of her god and his crucified son.
He left Teja early in the morning, but after Veidt would have left his house, and appeared in the hallway outside of Veidt's penthouse with a little blast of blue light and a small breeze.
"Open up," he muttered, turning his hand on the doorknob, which was apparently brighter than many mortals after all in that it knew better than to argue with Loki.
The house was nearly emptied by now in anticipation of Veidt's move, and so high above the ground- Loki instinctively touched the side of his neck and made a concerned little noise- that there were no sounds of traffic below. The place was silent except for the sound of a bright, chirping little voice on one of the upper floors singing a song that nevertheless seemed a little melancholy.
"Il vaut mieux, bien mieux, ne pas forcer son coeur, pour l´amour, il n´est pas de raison..."
He followed the sound upstairs until he found little Giry with an open valise on her bed, already dressed and with her uncomfortably thick golden hair secured into a tidy braid she had wrapped around her head and pinned under, putting her belongings in the valise.
"Jusqu´au jour où passe le bonheur, le seul mot à dire, le seul, c´est..."
Little Giry stopped with her hands hovering over the valise, eyes wide. She slowly turned her gaze toward where Loki stood in the doorway.
"Miss Giry," Loki said, in what he hoped was a pleasant and non-threatening tone, with a relaxed smile.
And then the film itself had to go and make everything weird again.
It was ostensibly a family film, about a self-centered young girl wishing her baby brother away to someone apparently called the Goblin King (the majority of the goblins were appropriately goblin-ish, if rather small, and cunningly represented by little animate dolls, but the King was played by a mortal rock star whose name Loki had encountered a few times in magazines and looked just enough like Herbert von Krolock for Loki to snort disparagingly when he entered but enough not like Herbert von Krolock for Loki to get over this objection within about half a scene) and having to embark on a quest to get him back before the baby became one of the wretched little goblins themselves. It was entertaining, and both of them enjoyed the songs to the point of raiding a record store after the film for two copies of the soundtrack album. Loki had been teleporting them around, but after this, he announced that they had to use his car so they could listen to it.
After about forty unnecessary minutes of driving and declaring to the world at large, or at least the inside of the car, that it reminded them of the babe with the power, Thor went home, entering the house with endearingly exaggerated care to not wake Megan, who was sleeping upstairs. Loki watched from the street.
He smiled ruefully. It might have been the moral of the film still hanging around in his head, but Loki didn't hate his brother now.
But the movie had brought other pressing issues to mind, and without much time to deal with them. Thor expected Loki's continued company, and Meg Giry was due to arrive in the morning, and the last time Meg and Loki had spoken, she had apparently thought he was some kind of demon trying to steal her soul away from the reaches of her god and his crucified son.
He left Teja early in the morning, but after Veidt would have left his house, and appeared in the hallway outside of Veidt's penthouse with a little blast of blue light and a small breeze.
"Open up," he muttered, turning his hand on the doorknob, which was apparently brighter than many mortals after all in that it knew better than to argue with Loki.
The house was nearly emptied by now in anticipation of Veidt's move, and so high above the ground- Loki instinctively touched the side of his neck and made a concerned little noise- that there were no sounds of traffic below. The place was silent except for the sound of a bright, chirping little voice on one of the upper floors singing a song that nevertheless seemed a little melancholy.
"Il vaut mieux, bien mieux, ne pas forcer son coeur, pour l´amour, il n´est pas de raison..."
He followed the sound upstairs until he found little Giry with an open valise on her bed, already dressed and with her uncomfortably thick golden hair secured into a tidy braid she had wrapped around her head and pinned under, putting her belongings in the valise.
"Jusqu´au jour où passe le bonheur, le seul mot à dire, le seul, c´est..."
Little Giry stopped with her hands hovering over the valise, eyes wide. She slowly turned her gaze toward where Loki stood in the doorway.
"Miss Giry," Loki said, in what he hoped was a pleasant and non-threatening tone, with a relaxed smile.