cunningas: (adrien: contemplative)
Loki laughed, "What sort of a question is that? What does it matter?"

Odin did not laugh in return, his face remaining graven out of stone as he gazed upon his blood-brother. "You have become one of the Aesir by mingling your blood with mine, Loki, but you are not of the Aesir, nor of the Vanir."

Loki's laughter turned to scowling and he looked away from Odin, off into the distance of the countryside that surrounded them, "You suggest I am like them, then. Untrustworthy."

And here, it was Odin's turn to laugh, a great booming sound that surprised even the Trickster, "Like them? No, you are like no one of the Jotnar that I have ever known. That does not, however, make you trustworthy."

This declaration elicited something of a wry smile from Loki, "I suppose you would have to be right, All-Father, but then, you usually are, are you not?"

Odin simply nodded and waited, his one blue eye staring penetratingly at his friend. Loki's smile turned even more wry, "And you aren't going to let me get out of answering the question either, are you?" Gravely, Odin nodded in response, and Loki sighed, settling down to the grass, considering the question put to him.

"My father is Farbauti, the cruel-striker, the lightning, and my mother is Laufey, the leafy wooded isle, and it is for her that I am named Laufeyiarson and," he glanced up at Odin who was showing signs of impatience with Loki reiterating things the All-Father already knew, "I know that you know these things, but to tell my story, I must start with the beginning, mustn't I?" That was a rhetorical question, so Loki hardly waited for a response, "as you also know, they are both Jotnar as am I and it is through them that the blood of my ancestors flows through me and it is this blood that concerns you and my allegiances to it."

Odin looked as if he may have wished to speak, but Loki was ready to say his part and not willing to give his blood-brother the chance, and so the trickster stood and carried on, "let me speak now, then, and hear me, Odin, for I will not say these things a second time. I am neither the most trustworthy nor dependable of the Aesir or the Vanir, nor even of the Jotnar, but these things you knew when you joined your blood with mine. My allegiance and my loyalty will forever, as they have always, be not given lightly nor taken away lightly for I try to do nothing important lightly. My allegiance does not lie with my forefathers though they have never harmed me, but instead it lies with my chosen family, with your family, All-father, and I may only hope that it stays that way for all time. Other than this, the past does not bear speaking of, nor is it important for our future, so pray do not ask me to speak further on the matter, my friend."

Slowly, Odin nodded, not completely pleased with the response, but content with it, "Very well, Laufeyiarson, no more shall we speak of it."

Loki nodded in return, a smile once more appearing on his lips, "Then I do believe we both need a drink."
cunningas: (adrien: skeptic)
I can feel it, you know.

Pulsing in the streets and in the sky and in the earth and in fire and water and animals and trees and in me and in you.


It's all there, you know, and I don't want to miss a moment of it. Not one moment.

Seducing women, seducing men.

Murder and destruction and fire and death.

Heat and wet and hard and rough and fast and soft and gentle and whatever else you want to describe it when it's sex.

Playing tricks and laughing, lying, hiding, finding, smirking.

Being always right, more often than you'd like.

Being sometimes wrong but twisting it about 'till I'm right.

Wife and children and lovers and friends and enemies and plain old acquaintances are all out there to meet, to talk to, to shag, to hurt, to kill, to heal, to teach.

And you know what?

Sleep just gets in the fucking way.
cunningas: (adrien: with some blonde chick)
He'd met her in the spring, wooed her through the summer, and married her in the fall. Their courtship had been quick, but not so quick as remembered by others today. He hadn't seduced her, either. If that had been all he'd wanted, he would never have bothered with marriage. No, this he'd done the right and proper way. And it had been worth it.

She belonged to the Summer, anyway, with her golden hair [far more beautiful than Sif's ever could be] gleaming in the sunlight and eyes the shade of the deep blue reaches of the sky. Most people spoke of drowning in someone's eyes, but when he looked into hers, he flew. Summer was for the ripening of the fruit, the warmth that suffused everything in a sort of hazy glow, for the mother and for the bride. And, without sounding too bawdy, she was [is and shall ever be] all of these things. Ripe, warm, mother, and bride. His bride.

The first time he'd spoken to her alone had been on the summer solstice [an auspicious day]. He'd given her a flower, one that would later be said to mean love me, though of course, at that time, it was simply a flower. She had blushed prettily and they had talked and with her he smiled a true smile not hidden behind a mask.

They had not talked for long, for her parents had called her away. And he had hardly been out of her presence for a moment or two [still could smell her fragrance on the air] that Odin had appeared beside him. If she was summer [and he was autumn for leaves that matched his hair and the change that came upon the world] then Odin was winter with his icy blue eye and his snow colored hair. Odin had looked at him calculatingly, spoke first, "I know of your dalliances with the others, but this one is different, Loki. Do you plan on breaking her heart?"

He'd shaken his head, still watching her as she walked away, "No." He'd looked up at Odin, a curious quirk to his lips, "just on stealing it."

Odin had glanced her way, before back down at his blood-brother, "Don't hurt her." And then, the all-father was gone.

And he was left murmuring, "wouldn't dream of it." Ever.


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December 2013

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