97/O Brother Where Art Thou

O Brother Where Art Thou
Date of Scene:	24 February 2020
Location:	501 1/2 Hill Street (New York City)
Synopsis:	Thor and Loki come close to forgiveness.
Cast of Characters:	Loki, Thor

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Loki has posed:
The street where the objective of Loki's current location awaits! It is... entirely ordinary looking, upon arrival, really. Hill Street is not even interesting (and doesn't even seem to be on a Hill, so that name must relate to something other than geography).

There are three children at play outside the line of buildings, and all of them stop and gape at the loud and demanding arrival of Thor, though they don't run away yet: there's enough distance to still have Thor be entirely interesting and not frightening to the little group.

Sif's instructions about where Loki's den is are puzzling: there is a 501 Hill street, and a 503 Hill street. 502 is across the way. No 501 and a half is visible. Of course.

Thor has posed:
    Rising up from the crouch of his landing, Thor gains his feet with Mjolnir held tight in his hand, the magic Uru hammer whirling once through the air as he snaps it around, then retakes the grip by the haft. The features of the Thunderer are severe, stern as he looks at the numbers on the house, then the other house, then back at the first. His scowl deepens as high above the clouds offer woeful portents for whatever may pass.
    A glance one way, the other, and with a sourness to him Thor notices the children but does his best to hide the anger in his features as he forces a strained smile toward the kids who look on him so curiously. He even gives them a small wave, "Run along now, children."
    Though they might very well not do that.
    Thor, however, waits no longer as he lifts his voice, strong and resonant. It's that voice that Loki has heard hundreds of times on this battlefield or that one. The one used when commanding his men. Challenging the evil. And exacting harsh revenge upon his enemies.
    "LOKI!"
    A pause, the words echoing off the sides of the small buildings. "LOKI WHERE ARE YOU!?"
    Of course then he looks again at the kids and adds quieter. "I said run along." He points at them as if there could be some mistake as to who he's talking to before he turns away and calls out again.
    "LOKI IT WILL GO BETTER FOR YOU IF WE SPEAK NOW!"

Loki has posed:
The children's reactions vary; two of them squeak and rush off home, but the third seems to mostly just stare at Thor with a slack-jawed, huge-eyed expression, as if entirely stunned. Some human children have no sense of self-preservation. Or maybe a very good sense: Thor likely won't harm the child, will he? Still, when pointed at, the third one picks up his toy gun and scurries off in a different direction from the others, taking the stairs to his house quickly and stumblingly. But the children are now gone; the 'Children at Play' sign just up the street is no longer accurate.

"So /demanding/," agonizes the supremely put-upon slippery silver tongued tones of Loki, God of Mischief. He materializes out of nowhere, though it isn't his usual teleporting expressive flux of magic: this is more that he stepped out of the zone of illusion and protection he had been enjoying: roughly in the middle of 501 and 503. There must, of course, be something hidden there. Thor might now catch it with his eye, as he knows specifically where to stare. There is magic there, grains of glamour, unrelated to Loki himself: the location is probably ensorcelled.

Loki is dressed in Migardian style, he blends in with other New Yorkers with no effort, in his sleek black attire, hands resting on the pockets of expensive woolen overcoat. His hair is sleeked back, his visage collected, eyes narrowed but regally /tolerant/ of the noisy outburst. Sif had mentioned a 'brand' on Loki; his clothing covers the location she'd mentioned, so there's no easy checking for it. "Scaring the humans, tut tut," Loki adds with a click of tongue.

Thor has posed:
    At the sight of him Loki can see the effect he has. The way Thor's eyes widen with that first hint of the berserker to him. The way his features tense and clench, his jaw setting as he holds his mouth shut with tendons bunching. He holds up a finger at Loki and if this were caught as an image by some enterprising social media artist the caption would assuredly be, 'I can't even!'
    Yet in the here and now it is likely much less humorous as the Thunderer starts to stalk forward, almost as if he intends to walk right /over/ Loki, likely intending to push him back into that glamour just by the force of his own will.
    Yet it's when the crystal cascade flows over them that he stops and he says sharply, loudly. "Tell me how you did it!" He advances face to face, finger pointing straight at Loki's nose. "Tell me what you said to our father that made him agree to this madness!"

Loki has posed:
It's very easy to herd Loki backwards; Loki manages to make it look like he's /not/ herded, though, and chose to dance backwards into the wall of the glamour. Truth being, though, he doesn't want to be bashed with Mjolnir at the moment. It wouldn't be a good situation, and he can recognize the berserker flush in his brother quite easily. Some of the sassy, prim quality to Loki's expression melts off - which leaves behind a more 'honest' resentful glower.

"It is hardly becoming of any royalty of Asgard to waste away in one of our dungeons," Loki says, his composure pressed but not broken. "Though if you /really/ think that I wanted to be sent HERE, of all places, truly, the madness is on /your/ end, brother," Loki parries. He's flushed and glowering back at Thor, though he's well aware of his current disadvantage. And that makes his own gaze start to turn colder, bladed. "/That/ part was all HIM," Loki spits out. No, the trickster did not want to be stuck on Midgard.

Thor has posed:
    Thor is having none of it, and the abrupt slash and swipe of his arm is all he uses for now to tear away those words that are dared uttered before him. He scowls and then stalks forwards, pacing as he does so when his temper threatens to get the better of him. A few feet, then he snaps around to again face Loki as he growls, "/Yes!/ You should waste away in our dungeons for the crimes you've committed. Against these people? And here is where he sends you?! To what? What is your /purpose/ here? To somehow make it well with them?"
    His eyes slip to the incredulous as he stalks forward and touches a hand to his brow then reaches out almost as if Loki were to stabilize him, resting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Are you to... will you go to the families of all your victims?" He gestures with the sweep of one hand toward the shimmer of the glamour though likely more meaning just the reality of the world beyond. "Will you go before each one and tell them how you are so sorry to have taken the lives of their loved ones because you were upset that you were raised in privilege, safety, and esteem?"
    He steps back, hand sliding free as he just shakes his head, lost in the maze of his own mind and torn feelings. "How can you be /you/ Loki? Tell me if you can no longer lie. TELL ME!"

Loki has posed:
Loki snarls in response, twisting his shoulder away a bit belatedly, but Thor had already let go. Loki's showing his own displeasure about being /demanded/ things. "The geis on me does not require me to explain /anything/," Loki replies, with a snort. "Nor do I see any reason to, as you seem to have your ears stuffed with righteous indignation; if I do so, it is out of generosity," continues the mage, a sourness to his voice. He is not lying, in fact: he suspects much of what he'd even try to say would fall on ears too angry to properly see logic or light. Thor is frustrating, and Loki's starting to ramp up in anger, as well. His is more a seething disgust, though: that Thor has come to yell at him, when HE is the victim!

"Apologize?! These humans matter so much, and I so little?!" Loki emotionally pushes back, his injury coming in hot, fueling his own pressure. Loki doesn't yell, he spits words like knives. "I do not care about the humans. I planned to let them be. You would rather I not do that? Shall we include them in something that is between /us/? I can do that, you know. I might be far more entertained doing that, than what father /requires/." Loki's voice is strangled, mixed, growing rage under it.

Thor has posed:
    "Loki." And for a brief moment there is such pain as his voice cracks simply at the utterance of the name. There is the hardness in Thor, yes, but his eyes are still wounded as if he were remembering their time not too long ago when they had fought on the Bifrost. Of their battle in New York. Of the time they came before Odin and he saw exactly how much venom Loki had stored away in his heart.
    "Do you now see that if such is so you could finally /tell/ me how you truly feel. You could tell me that you do wish to find a way /home/ and I would believe you. I would fight for you. You are my _brother_. But even now with it you could tell me how much you hate me. And I could do naught but believe you. For it must be the truth? And you would break my heart. And I would still _fight_ for you."
    He gestures to the side, "Why do you think I am here? To simply berate you? To channel my wroth?"
    He then finally grabs Loki by the shoulders. "I am trying to save you. If you have crafted this, then you have made a mistake. If father has done this to you then he has imperiled you." Thor's strong hands hold there as he looks in his brother's eyes, his blue irises flitting back and forth from one to the other as if seeking some sign, some answer.
    "Come to me, brother. Come back to us."

Loki has posed:
Loki lowers his head slightly, glaring up at Thor from under his eyebrows. Hands twitch, the long, sleek piano fingers curling into talon-like curls. Magic comes, automatic, but seems to squeal and tear around Loki's hands like a caged wild rat. Loki's eyes are feral, but the aggressive quality doesn't stay, it gets enveloped by pain. Not emotional, entirely: physical, too.

Glowing red and purple lines pulse up out from the side of his collar, showing on his neck, as the branded rune creates a feast of physical pain and under the duress of it, Loki can't hold the magic, it drops away. Sweat appears, and a heavy flush, from the humiliation of everything. All of it: Thor up in his face, the indignity of all of it, and the punishment he doesn't deserve.

And worst of all, that he's trying to spit some nastiness into Thor's face, but the lock against lying is making this really hard. He wanted to go for some emotional jugular: and there were some lies involved. Which means he sort of seethes uselessly. Odin's locks are working to crush Loki's main weapons - but it's creating a very trapped and injured Loki.

"You /can/ free me of this humiliating filth," Loki retorts, finally. "I know you're not here to do that. You're here to /enjoy/ this, are you?" Injury of a deeper type screams in the younger brother's eyes. "Everything is about YOU. Even /my/ punishment IS ABOUT YOU," Loki says, growing louder, finally, willingness to raise his voice finally coming. "I'm so sick of everything being about you because you act so /big and brave/. I know /otherwise/."

"Father requires I help you," Loki says, voice suddenly dropping, mutiny obvious. "Help /you/? Come back to you? Please. Your door is closed to me; I am no fool. I have to help myself; you're not going to."

Thor has posed:
    "I..." Thor looks on, looking into Loki's eyes as if trying somehow to find the brother he once knew, shaking his head slowly back and forth. Words escape him, for it was never his gift. It was Loki's and the language has come ever easier to him than the Thunderer. "I would free you, Loki."
    And then a pained smile slips to the fore briefly as the words break, "I--I would." A small laugh there at the end though it is not aimed at the trickster, and more himself knowing that that perhaps makes him a fool.
    "If I could trust you would not hurt others to get at me. At father. I have..." He shakes his head almost like a victim with the palsy, as if trying to negate the very world he was witnessing. "Only wanted for us to be..." But he doesn't finish those words.
    And then it is over. That chance. That glimpse of potential, a portal through which another world could have been wrought. It closes. Thor's features harden and he takes a deep breath, channeling. Focusing on the matter at hand. It is his practical face, for he must deal with the world as it is. Not as he would wish it.
    "I will abide by father's wishes. You will have what chances there are to aid me if you so wish. Perhaps you will be able to find redemption. I can give you naught."

Loki has posed:
However, something else is going on with Loki, that is probably interesting to watch. It's like he sat back on his heels unexpectedly in the conversation. He did not remotely expect Thor to tell him that he'd release him.

And he doesn't know what to make of it.

Is it a lie or trick? What's the purpose of it? A bluff to be called, to then throw Loki even more into indignation and frustration? All of that rushes through Loki's face and eyes. Loki's window of softening didn't quite happen at the same time as Thor's. Chances there, but probably gone, as they have failed to overlap....

"You say you would, but here we are. And I'm the liar. --- What makes you think I'd repay you in violence?" Loki answers, his tone aloof, recovered, but baffled.

"I don't /hate/ you," Loki says, disgusted with that. "But I do think you are a phenomenal fool and frustrating idiot," Loki peevishly informs him, forced into truth. "And helping you with midgard's stupid problems makes me want to puke." Also true.

Thor has posed:
    Thor's turned away, and as Loki speaks there's no hint that the man has heard him. No sign to understanding. There's just the tall man taking a deep steadying breath as he lifts both hands to the back of his neck and rests them there before releasing roughly and only then turning to face his brother.
    "Your actions, Loki. Your actions make me think you would do so."
    There's a pause then he holds up a hand. "Peace for now, brother. I beg you. Peace. I must away. We..."
    Again there is that slow shake of his head, unbelieving or just trying to keep himself focused in the here and now. "We will talk again soon." Another nod then he looks at him again. "Soon."
    With that he starts to move back toward that shimmering curve in reality they had stepped through moments ago. Likely seeking to depart and return to the reality of Midgard for now.

Loki has posed:
"If you need more /truths/, you know where I'll be," Loki says sarcastically, his frustration rearing back quickly. Loki's moods are mercurial; his passion isn't. He's always driven, emotionally invested. It is a strength, when aimed properly, it sustains Loki on all sorts of projects and ideas. It also burns him up inside.

"My actions. I suppose we won't know, as you withhold. That's not on me, brother," Loki replies. "Think about it, then. As I said. I'm stuck /here/." Loki doesn't go anywhere, as if to prove his point; he folds his slim arms, and watches Thor leave, emerald eyes glittering, but not ... cold. Not exactly that.