not_a_troll | 1. [accidental sound --> video]

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1. [accidental sound --> video]

[Everyone who is listening can hear the sound of leaves rustling followed by a soft groan coming from someone's mouth.

After that there are footsteps that slowly fade away but get louder again after a minute or two. Apparently someone discovered the book and the small yelp followed by a referral to Odin's empty eye socket might give the impression that someone managed to step into a pinecone with his bare foot.

There is more rustling and a soft thud, the sound of someone opening a book and...]

Oh! It is a Midgardian recording device in a book!

How perfectly...impractical!

[Since the owner of this voice, Loki Laufeyson from Asgard, is really fond of any Midgardian way of communicating through long-distance connections he figures the book out in a rather quick way.

Eventually his face appears on everyone's feed, finger tapping against the screen to test if it might be a screen of touch, like his own phone of Stark used to have.]

Everyone! I figure this book of communication has been left to me with a certain purpose. So I shall ask for your aid, yes?

[Loki takes a deep breath.]

First of all, someone has provided me with white pants, yet has forgotten to give me a proper shirt. Second of all, I am fairly sure this is not Broxton.

Is there a town nearby? At least one where I can get proper garments?

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[Loki's lip curls with a quick flash of disgust at the mention of Laufey.

Though this makes little sense to him. He didn't know about that when he was the age of this child. Perhaps it would have been better if he had.

He keeps his tone calm.]

How old are you?

[Loki sees that but decides not to mention it. After all, this is his older self, not some stranger. He knows himself quite well regarding that.]

Twelve.

[He keeps his questions basic.]

And you, older self?

Millenia.

[Loki cocks his head, thoughtful.]

Only there is something else afoot. At your age, I did not know the truth of my... [Again, that little sign of disgust.] parentage.

[Loki leans forward and pulls a face. Why would Odin keep that a secret?]

Does that bother you?

[Well, the disgust was not hard to miss. Maybe a bit of an obvious question. Still, as long as he is the one asking the questions...]

[Perhaps something is not so much afoot as plainly wrong.]

Does it not bother you?

[Loki tries to remember Laufey but nothing comes up. And when he tries to remember his mother, Farbauti, he gets even less than nothing.

No, his parentage isn't a problem to him. But for some reason it is something troublesome to his older self. And of course, being from Jotunheim is a one of the many reasons for the denizens of Asgard to avoid him.

So he shakes his head.]

I figure you feel ashamed and deceived, yes?

[It is a really simple conclusion Loki can make out of this. Still, it baffles him why Odin would keep this a secret.]

At the least.

[His tone is exceedingly dry. Loki sits back slightly, contemplating this. There is a tiny white scar just above his lips; he idly pokes at it as he thinks.]

It is actually a revealing explanation for much that made little sense before.

[He smiles bitterly.]

One cannot imagine a frost giant upon the throne of Asgard, after all.

[Loki is quiet for a long time, still visible on the screen when he overthinks the words out of the other's mouth.

He is not really aware of any urge to take over Asgard's throne. As he sees it, it would be a terrible burden. But he symphatizes nonetheless.]

A Jotun on Asgard's throne is very unlikely, yes.

[He nods and adds a short and simple question:]

Shall we meet?

[Loki smiles like it hurts.]

Indeed. One wonders why Odin felt compelled to raise me on such a steady diet of lies. It certainly didn't help me grow any taller. Born to be a king, indeed.

[Oh, the amount of bitterness and anger that can be packed into those words.]

[Loki sits back, frowning. He doesn't want to, strangely. It feels like confronting something he'd much rather avoid. But this is more complicated than simply his younger self arriving. This child knows things Loki did not at that age. It's a mystery that must be addressed.]

That may be best. I have a house.

[He gives the location, about which the mun is still being cagey and non-specific because it's not on the housing list yet.]

The god of lies living a lie. How very ironic.

[Still, the words from the others mouth, the information he gives, it did not match. He wonders why this differs. Of course there was this possibility that his older self was lying, or that this was part of a complicated trick.

Loki listens carefully when his older self gives a location and nods shortly.]

I will be on my way, older self.

[Loki closes the journal and thinks this over for a moment. He is not scared, no. Maybe a case of unpleasantly surprised. Slowly he gets on his feet and starts walking.]

I learned from the best.

[That hurts to say.

He simply nods, then closes his journal.

Then makes himself a cup of tea, which he does not bother to drink. It still sits on the counter, cold and forgotten, when he answers the door for his younger self.]

[First things first and instead of seeking out the house his older self mentioned he is going to find some clothes first. And yes, he goes through various stages of surprised when he noticed that the first shop he encounters actually has his clothes. Not just clothes, his clothes.

The only difference are the two little holes in the back that seem to be perfectly cut out for the tiny wings on his back.

He finds the house rather easily and stares at the front door for a moment before knocking. And when his older self opens he looks...different.

Probably yes, his older self. But a younger version.]

My apologies, I had to reclaim my clothes first.

[Loki stares for a little longer than is strictly necessary. He knows, intellectually, that he was once that young, but he certainly doesn't feel like it any more.

He shrugs and lets his younger self inside, closing the door behind him.]

Of course.

[Loki looks around the house and finally moves to sit on one of the chairs.]

Let the exchange of questions commence. Shall I start? Or do you rather want to ask me things first?

[Loki does not sit. He'd really much rather pace, so he splits the difference and leans against one of the walls, arms crossed.]

If you are my younger self, there should be nothing you know that I do not also know.

[He raises an eyebrow.]

Yet that is not the case. There are... inconsistencies, obviously. Care to explain those?

[Loki shakes his head.]

That is not entirely correct. An adult version of myself has experienced way more in life than a mere child. I am afraid that I might not be able to answer all your questions.

[Yet, he sits back.]

But I shall do my very best, yes?

[He nods.]

Indeed. And I am afraid I am not able to explain that. My memory has been downsized quite a bit after Thor came to seek me out.

Oh, I'm certain I know many things that you do not. But my experience should entirely encompass yours... if you are actually my younger self.

[He could draw a diagram of it, one circle inside the other.]

For example, you know what we are. I only found that out myself less than one year ago.

[He crosses his arms over his chest.]

So perhaps you ought to start by explaining 'downsized.'

We are the same, its just that our realities differ.

[Loki gets comfortable on the chair, pulling his legs up and folds his hands.]

There is not much I have to explain about that. I have no recollection of our past deeds, therefore I am unable to describe them. All I can say is that older!self has died sacrificing himself for Asgard after being responsible for its destruction.

[He shrugs and gives a symphatetic smile.]

Have you been treated differently because of that? Ridiculed? Mocked?

Ah! And I would like something to drink as well.

I had begun to think it was something of that nature, but wished more evidence.

[He takes the news about the destruction of Asgard and his own apparent sacrifice - or his other self, perhaps? - with apparent calm.

But he doesn't like this at all. Even if he can feel the shape in relation to his own game.

The question, however, makes him snort.]

I... left Asgard shortly after I found out. So I would say there was not much opportunity for such things.

Though it certainly provided ample explanation for the way I was treated. [He shrugs, lips compressing in a thin line.] None knew why, but plainly felt I was different all the same.

[Right. Drinks.]

Water or tea.

[Loki nods slowly, his brain busy processing everything, trying to draw the right conclusions.

The only thing that stands out that this older Loki, he himself, seems to be affected by his emotions, in pain even. In a sense it does do something to notice that, the way his face changes when he is referring to his background.

He makes a mental note that he does not want to feel like that, ever. And he wants to tell his older self as well but he does not know how.]

Tea...? Ah, yes. Tea it is.

[He nods again and seems to be deep in thought.]

And Thor? Did he treat you different?

[Loki starts the little ritual of making tea from loose leaves, and he's glad for the distraction. Thor is the last thing he wants to talk about, ever. It's easier to speak with his back to his younger self. He doesn't have to try so hard to control his expression.]

Thor is an idiot. There's no significant difference between him and the rest.

His shadow is a cold thing to be.

[Loki watches the other moving around and the words about Thor...well...they sting and he frowns. His voice changes a bit when he replies.]

Do not speak ill of my brother.

[He shifts in the chair, unfolding his legs, the look on his face serious.]

[Loki's voice is cold as he finishes making the tea.]

He is no brother of mine.

[He walks back over to his younger self and thumps the mug of tea down in front of him]

And I shall speak as I like.

[Pathetic, he thinks. Even his younger self likes Thor better. He stalks away to see to his own cup of tea, dumping it out in the sink and starting a new one.]

He is.

[Loki takes the mug from the table the minute the other puts it down. He repeats his words again.]

He is.

[He curls his hands around the mug.]

Of course one can speak as one likes. But do mind your words, yes?

No. He is not. [The words are delivered with cold finality.]

And if you aim for childish bickering over this obvious fact, you may leave my house.

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