cunningas: (adrien: worn out)
Loki ([personal profile] cunningas) wrote2009-01-11 12:48 am
Entry tags:

[future loki - firefly!verse]

The man who sits by the crossroads doesn't look particularly remarkable to any who pass him by. His clothing is, after all, rather shabby and held together by patches and prayer. He wears a wide-brimmed hat that looks like it may have once been a respectable shade of black but is now so faded and dust-covered that one would never guess. By his feet rests a travelsack, just as patched, faded, and dusty as the rest of his clothing and within it he carries all of his worldly possessions. Carefully, he keeps his foot over the bag's carrying strap so no enterprising thief might snatch it away easily. He wears no jewelry to flash and glitter though there is a twinkle of mischief in his eyes and when he smiles as he is prone to do, his teeth flash white on his face. Of everything that he wears, his boots are new, won the night before in a game of chance.

His chair is nothing more than an old crate, repurposed and he leans back on it, his shoulderblades against the wall behind him. All through the afternoon he sits, from noon until sundown and it is a rare moment indeed that doesn't see him with a small crowd arrayed about him. The man tells stories and often, as he does so, he performs tricks, small conjures, sleight of hand, minor miracles that awe and amaze his audience. For this entertainment, by the time the sun goes down, he has accumulated enough cash in dribs and drabs to get himself a decent bunk for the night.

Of course, not all of that cash was given to him by his adoring public but he'd never felt overly guilty about making use of his rather light fingers when the situation warrented it. And sometimes when it didn't.

The day being done and his money made, he picks up his travelsack and slings it over his shoulder. It should be galling, for him, living this life not out of choice but necessity. It certainly was, once, but he's grown accustomed. In some ways, it is that that galls, of all things. A rut he can't climb out of. Just another thing to ignore as he makes his way to the rooming-house that holds his bed for the night. He'll move on to another part of town the next day, wouldn't do to overstay his welcome.

Not unless he really felt like having an up close and personal chat with the Feds or something.

He pauses on the steps of the rooming house, mentally counting up his coin. He looks up at the building, then back down the street. He could stay in a cold, empty bed this night or...

...well, he's got enough for a girl, he might as well use it.

ooc: This is Loki set in a verse idea made up ages ago (Loki in the Fireflyverse). In this one, "Ragnarok" was whatever happened to Earth-That-Was to cause everybody to leave. Somehow, Loki survived instead of getting killed as prophesied and made it off planet. However, as time went on, he seems to have lost much of his power and is now, essentially, a very long-lived human being.

I'm not sure where this post is going. It didn't end up like I imagined it when I started and I'm sure there's more, but I'm currently stuck on it. Anyway, if anybody out there has a character in this 'verse, you're more than welcome to play with him. Or whatnot.

[identity profile] 2009-01-11 03:35 pm (UTC)(link)
He may not notice, but there's a girl watching him, even now.

Her hair isn't red anymore, and her eyes and skin are darker. But she's the same woman, centuries later, and she recognizes him from these new eyes just as easily.

For the moment, she's content just to watch over him.

[identity profile] 2009-01-11 04:01 pm (UTC)(link)
You don't live as long as he does and not learn a sense of when someone is watching you. It was one thing when he was putting on his little show, watchers are expected. But now he's alone, despite the various people here bustling around him. They pay him not a second glance.

But something is making the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, even if he takes care not to show it outwardly as he strolls along. Even so, he's looking for his watcher.

This would have been easier, once.

[identity profile] 2009-01-12 12:13 pm (UTC)(link)
She waits in the shadows and in the crowd for him to reach his destination, or at least to stop on the way, before she shows herself. She isn't sure if he'll recognize her or not, what he's lost since then.

Strange, how he was diminished but she was still strong, her people were, his people all dead but him as far as she could tell.

And then again, the world still had need of her and hers.

[identity profile] 2009-01-12 01:41 pm (UTC)(link)
He doesn't, quite, reach the place he'd been headed, stopping when the feeling annoys him enough to turn and actually look.

Which would be about when he actually catches sight of her. Except...she doesn't look like anyone he can remember meeting. Nor does she look like someone who means him an ill turn. Not somebody's muscle, not the Feds. Not from what he can see, anyway.

So he frowns at her, tips his hat up a bit, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

[identity profile] 2009-01-24 07:09 pm (UTC)(link)
She smiles a little. "You don't remember me, do you." No, of course not. Poor Loki, what he has become, such a small thing compared to what he was. Not that she misses what he was so much as mourns ... grieves, maybe, for a hurt done to her friend.

[identity profile] 2009-01-25 03:24 am (UTC)(link)
He tilts his head to the side slightly, curiously. "Should I?"

He had, after all, known many women in his time. But there's something about this one. Something familiar, now that he's looking for it. Loki takes a step closer to her, his expression thoughtful.

[identity profile] 2009-01-25 06:40 pm (UTC)(link)
"You might. We knew each other well, once upon a time."

But that had been before he lost his memory, his sense of self. She wonders if it's something he can regain again, or if it is gone forever with the rest of his people.

Poor Loki.

[identity profile] 2009-01-25 09:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Once close enough, he reaches out to touch her cheek, but stops short of actually doing so, though she can still feel the warmth of his skin near hers.

He asks, with a wry twist of his lips, "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away?"

[identity profile] 2009-01-29 04:03 am (UTC)(link)
She smiles, and it's only a bit wry, mostly real. "Something like that. An even longer time ago, before everything ended and we had to start over again." Before Ragnarok. Before you nearly died.

"A great deal was ..." Torn from you. No, not that. "A lot happened. You barely survived."

[identity profile] 2009-01-29 02:44 pm (UTC)(link)
He makes a face, "I do remember."

He's not that broken.

And he thinks he remembers her too, even if she looks different. He lets his hand actually touch her, gliding his thumb over her skin. "You look different."

[identity profile] 2009-01-29 04:28 pm (UTC)(link)
"Good." There's a smile now, a real smile, leaning her cheek into his hand a bit. Enjoying his touch.

"I do that, now and again." Which he might remember, or might not. Perhaps his initial confusion had simply been over her new form. Though, time was somewhat long and not so long ago at all, he would have recognized her no matter what she looked like.

Ah well.

[identity profile] 2009-01-12 03:27 am (UTC)(link)
The woman, the Companion, is out for a walk. Where she's coming from and where she's going are hard to say, and she's not likely to tell. She's lost in her own thoughts, whatever they may be.

She's as hard to read as ever, and possibly hard to recognize as well. Gone are all traces of blue, and her armor has been replaced by softer materials. She might be recognized for what she's assumed to be, but rarely if ever for what she is, or was.

And there's no one left to recognize her here, is there?

[identity profile] 2009-01-12 03:31 am (UTC)(link)
He's not one to miss watching a pretty lady walk by and give him more than a once-over with his eyes. Or, you know, a twice-over in the case of the woman he just passed. Companion, if he had to bet on it.

He keeps walking a few steps, until his stride falters and his expression becomes one of intense curiousity.

Something about her was just...familiar.

He turns on his heel and moves to follow her. The rear view is nice but...he wants to see her face again.

[identity profile] 2009-01-12 03:43 am (UTC)(link)
Of course she's aware of being followed, but she doesn't falter in her step. Whoever he is, he's no threat to her.

She doesn't turn until she's absolutely sure that he's following, and that there aren't any spectators, just in case things take a turn for the violent. She's largely given up those habits, but on the rare occasion she was presented with the opportunity to defend herself rather spectacularly.

"Can I help you?" she inquires with a serene half-smile.

[identity profile] 2009-01-12 03:46 am (UTC)(link)
He smiles back at her, his expression that of a poor yokel trying to please the pretty lady. "Scuse me, miss, b'lieve you dropped this here." And he holds up a pretty gold chain that shines in the sunlight.

It's not actually gold, not all the way through, and it's not hers. But it gives him an excuse to talk to her.

As he holds up the chain, he uses his other hand to tip the brim of his hat up a bit, the better to see her with.

[identity profile] 2009-01-12 03:58 am (UTC)(link)
"Thank you."

Her reply is automatic, before she even reaches for the object; she hasn't read him as a threat. Probably just someone who couldn't think of a better pretense with which to approach her.

But then she looks at him, actually looks, and her hand pauses just as her fingertips brush the chain. She goes still all of a sudden, except for the small characteristic tilt of her head with which she regards him.

"Have we met?" she asks, still smiling, but wary.

[identity profile] 2009-01-12 04:00 am (UTC)(link)
He doesn't so much as twitch in movement toward her, but his smile stretches into something like a grin.

"I was thinkin' you looked awfully familiar, ma'am."

Yes, yes he is playing the yokel part to the hilt.

[identity profile] 2009-01-12 04:11 am (UTC)(link)
"Do I?" she asks, all innocence. (Or, as much as she's capable of, anyway.)

She still doesn't quite trust her senses. He may look like Loki, but looks could be deceiving. Best to play her role til she figures out what he wants.

"You can't imagine how often I hear that," she adds, with a tiny flicker of wry amusement in her eyes.

[identity profile] 2009-01-12 04:14 am (UTC)(link)
He does move now, a quick movement that drapes the chain elegantly around her wrist even as he quite possibly removes from her some other, more valuable, piece of jewelry.

Old habits die hard.

Then he's doffing his hat to her in an almost courtly bow, revealing red hair cut short that shines just like that gold. "I could imagine all kinds of things, ma'am."

[identity profile] 2009-01-12 08:13 am (UTC)(link)
He's welcome to it; nothing she's wearing at present is remotely valuable to her, if it's even real enough to sustain itself once she's out of sight.

She toys with the chain as she regards him thoughtfully, wondering what game he's playing and whether or not she feels like playing along.

"Then tell me," she says, seeming to decide something or other, "Who did you imagine I was?"

[identity profile] 2009-01-12 01:36 pm (UTC)(link)
He replaces the hat on his head and smiles at her, "is this truly a conversation for the middle of the street, ma'am?"

He looks around, "wouldn't we be more comfortable sitting down?"

[identity profile] 2009-01-13 04:40 am (UTC)(link)
"I suppose so," she replies, breezily, without even the smallest flicker of annoyance. She's either learned to hide it well, or her temper has calmed itself in recent years.

"I know of a place that is quite comfortable and not at all far from here. Shall we take our conversation there?"

[identity profile] 2009-01-13 04:48 am (UTC)(link)
He nods, "lead the way. I'll follow."

They must make a strange pair. The companion and the grifter.

[identity profile] 2009-01-14 06:09 am (UTC)(link)
Regardless of any strangeness, they don't draw any more than the usual amount of glances that either of them might have on their own as she leads the way to what passes for an apartment building on this planet.

The lobby is elegant enough for her presumed station, and the doorman nods to her as though he knows her, though her acknowledging smile is slightly distant. She stops at a door on the second floor, though when she opens it there's nothing to say for certain that anyone actually lives in the apartment within. It's prettily enough furnished, but almost too precisely arranged. Untouched. Or maybe she's just very, very neat.

"Sit wherever you'd like. Will you have a drink?"

[identity profile] 2009-01-14 01:46 pm (UTC)(link)
As they pass the doorman, he smiles with an air of but of course I belong here, his step relaxed, despite any surreptitious sideways glances he might have gotten.

Once in the apartment, he's already in the process of making himself at home before she's finished telling him to sit. Indeed, he picks the most comfortable-looking chair to settle down in, setting his bag down beside him, still resting one foot over it, just in case. The motion had become unconscious now and he'd always been a bit possessive of what he'd considered his anyway.

His hat, though, he pulls off and sets on the small table beside him, unconcernedly, "wouldn't say no to one." He still hasn't dropped the Rim-world drawl.

[identity profile] 2009-01-15 07:50 am (UTC)(link)
She glides from the room in a swish of silk, and returns a moment later with two glasses of plum wine, a local favorite on this particular world. She hands her guest his drink without a word, and only then stands looking at him as though she were trying to puzzle out something or other.

"You've changed," she pronounces at last, not without irony.

[identity profile] 2009-01-15 02:39 pm (UTC)(link)
"Well, you know, I hear that happens to people over the years," he raises his glass slightly to her in salute and takes a sip of the wine.

"And I'm no exception."

He let his gaze travel up and down her body, a slight smile curving on his lips, "and I must say I never would have expected to see you dressed in something like that."

[identity profile] 2009-01-16 04:39 am (UTC)(link)
"And I never expected to see you again at all," she replies, unfazed.

"Though since you are here," she adds, taking a sip of her own wine, "if you've got any recommendations of other professions which allow one to move in and out of powerful circles as one chooses while maintaining a low profile, I am open to suggestion."

[identity profile] 2009-01-16 02:45 pm (UTC)(link)
The idea intrigues him, sets his mind to spinning, and he doesn't answer right away.

Not that she'll likely mind.

"I'll think about it," is all he finally says. And, "what do I call you now, anyway?"

[identity profile] 2009-01-17 07:43 am (UTC)(link)
"Another point in the disguise's favor is that no one blinks an eye at a Companion called Illyria," she replies, and takes a seat on the nearby sofa. It may be noted that she moves with a more human sort of grace than she used to -- either she's finally settled into this Shell, or it's difficult to drop the role she's become so accustomed to playing.

"Though if you're going to converse with me in places where it matters what the locals are calling me, perhaps you ought to adjust your attire accordingly," she adds, with just a bit of her old disdain.

[identity profile] 2009-01-17 02:36 pm (UTC)(link)
He looked at her with a totally fake affronted gaze, "what's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Oh, he could probably rustle up something that made him look more appropriate if needed and actually-

-hey, he hadn't run that sort of scam on this world. It was a tempting thought.

[identity profile] 2009-01-31 12:54 pm (UTC)(link)
"A great many things, none of them worth detailing," she says, looking bored.

"A better question is why you're wearing it. What are you doing on this world? What game are you playing?"

It's a good thing to keep track of; what other former deities are doing on her planet.

[identity profile] 2009-01-31 01:55 pm (UTC)(link)
"I," he says in a quite grandiose tone, "am playing the game of life!"

Alas and alack that it is as true as it is.

"A man has to wear clothes, you know. These just happened to fit."