cunningas: (magic)
He paced.

Okay, not really, because not having a corporeal form meant that things like pacing weren't exactly possible. It would be more accurate to say that he imagined himself pacing within the confines of the jar in which he'd been trapped. More accurate, yeah, but easier to just say he paced.

He paced and he thought about his predicament. His own stupid fucking predicament. Something like a week, maybe (hard to tell time when you're a disembodied spirit because the passage of time really loses all meaning) before he'd really be dead. And who the hell would stop the bitch, anyway? He'd been alone when she summoned him, no reason for anyone to notice he was gone. Notice


So, he'd have to do this on his own. Somehow. Except that he was imprisoned within a jar which was placed within a circle of power which until he found a chink in one or the other largely meant he was cut off from his own source of power. Bitch.

So it would require sneakery. Of some sort. Except...he knew he was good, but was he good enough to trick her into freeing him when she was on her guard? Not without a loophole. And to find the loophole he needed...

He needed help, as much as it galled him to admit. He needed a distraction.

He needed for her to miss her deadline so whoever she'd promised herself to would get pissed and do his job for him.

Except that didn't provide him with the pleasure of slaughtering her himself. thought.

Mmmm...perhaps he couldn't leave the jar but there had to be a link to the outside world somewhere. So thin as to be overlooked maybe, but it would have to exist, something at least holding his spirit to his body. Really, both were one and the same, his body only a seeming he'd taken on for himself so he could move among mortals. To destroy any link between them, she'dve had to destroy the body he thought about it, that hadn't been what it had felt like when she captured him. More like...stretching, like a rubber band. Pulling his body back home, probably. She'd needed to cut off his access to it to shackle him effectively but to destroy it entirely would hobble his power quite permanently. Which would prevent her from acquiring all of his power -- and suddenly he regretted all that power he'd hoarded by that trick with the armor and the Solstice and...nevermind -- and she would become nothing more than a demi-god at best. If she succeeded. Which she wouldn't.

But...if there's a connection, he can use it. Wedge open the door just a hair, as it were. At least contact someone, right?

Makes sense to him.

He gets to work.

The effort nearly killed him-....bad joke, right.

So, after a lot of time and effort, he found what he was looking for, sending a thread of his consciousness up along the slender strand that still connected him to his body, following it all the way back. And then....

He couldn't inhabit his body this way, there wasn't enough of him in his sending to do that. But...there was another connection he could make, to someone who had become almost a part of him, someone who loved him, someone he had known for millenia, someone he loved.


This was a more difficult trip for him to make, as it took heavier concentration and the connection was even weaker than that which still held him to his body, so the risk was greater that the Bitch would notice. But it was a risk worth taking. Even if he only-...except he wasn't going to think like that.

Instead, he finds himself in contact with Sigyn's....presence? Aura? Consciousness? Whatever-the-fuck it's called? He's not a fricking telepath, after all.


Please please please please hear me, he hopes.
cunningas: (who me?)
Antigone's party had ended early, the lights going down on his and Hermes' little stage before they'd ever gotten to get naked -- with Aphrodite even! -- and so Loki found himself sitting at home, for once with nothing to do.

More to the point, no one to do.

It was a tragedy, to be sure. But then....the night was still young and-....

...was someone trying to summon him?


cunningas: (Default)

December 2013

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