revivalproject | Message in a Bottle

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Message in a Bottle

Who: Loki and... you?
What: Getting the lay of the land
When: 5-6 days after people started arriving
Where: Proximal to the fountain, areas nearby
Warnings: None at this time; will update if necessary

It's a sad commentary on Loki's life that this is not the first, second, or even hundredth time he's awoken in a place with no idea where he is or notion how he got there. Until the last few decades, such awakenings had normally involved Thor, Sif, Iofast, and a lot of mead. In more recent times, it had gotten distressingly less about being tricked into drinking too much and more about being kidnapped, or having his mind overtaken by something, or worse.

His first reaction on opening his eyes is to feel frantically at the back of his neck as he sorts things through. No port. And here is his magic, still hot in his blood. And this is most definitely no ruined Proles, despite any outward similarities; the lack of dome makes that abundantly clear even before he gets a good look at the buildings.

And then there's that glowing sphere...

He finds himself up on his feet and touching the thing before he's processed that it might be a bad idea, and that takes his estimate of the situation from one of concern to near-emergency. Even as information floods his brain, unasked for and unwelcome, he's tearing himself away from the thing.

No matter how angry he is, this at least answers a few questions. He has to admit that in the privacy of his own head, even if he hates it. Loki retreats to the top of one of the nearby ruined buildings, hiding in an illusion, in order to brood.

He isn't the only one here. He hears the voices of others, even observes a few from afar. But he has no way of knowing how friendly they might be. Are there others from home about? Others from Proles? He can hardly dare hope. But standing in the square and shouting Hello is most certainly not his style. And this place appears to lack the convenient internet of Earth or network of Proles, which had made anonymously testing the waters much safer. His bread and butter is paranoia, and nothing that's happened to him in recent years has done anything but strengthen that feeling.

So, best to leave a calling card and see who might pick it up.

He waits until the square is deserted and returns to the fountain. It seems the best source of fresh water, so it will no doubt be visited often by whomever is around. After some consideration, he's decided that the assumption that most of the people he's observed are some format of human seems fair, so that's the best language to address his message in.

Using a bit of magic, he leave the following emblazoned on one edge of the fountain:

~ LINGORMR

Then he retreats back to his observational post to see what happens, again cloaked and hidden. The magical effect of it is obvious to anyone who has the skill; it would do well for him to see what compatriots--or enemies--he might have around.

[ooc note: the equation is the time-dependent, one-dimensional version of Schrödinger's equation.]

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It would be quite a stretch to say that Clint's beginning to feel more at home here. Yes, he's slightly more familiar with the place now that it's been a few days, but there's no ignoring the fact that this is still an alien planet. He might have friends here, but that still doesn't change the fact that this is not his world.

He passes by the fountain, intending to grab some water before continuing on his way, but that's before he notices the equation inscribed on its surface. Nothing immediately jumps out at him as to its significance, because quantum mechanics is not something he would ever claim to understand. The signature that follows it, if that's what it is, also means nothing to Clint, but someone obviously took the time to emblazon this on the fountain.

And what's more, it appears too new to have been a remnant of whoever inhabited the planet before. Still, with no immediate brain waves coming to him, Clint decides it's not relevant to him personally, even if it is something worth filing away in case that changes.

So, for the moment, he contents himself with scooping up some water with his hands while keeping one eye on his surroundings. It could be some lingering paranoia, but he reasons that if someone wanted to take him by surprise, this would be a good place to do it.

Oh. Oh that isn't fair. A face familiar not from Asgard or from Proles, but from his time on Midgard--someone that he'd once called friend, and then things had gotten... complicated.

Complicated really isn't the right word. What was that phrase Clint Barton--at least the one he'd known, and unwittingly betrayed, and broken, and--used once? Right. A total ratfuck disaster.

Being stolen onto a strange planet is bad enough. Being confronted with Clint Barton, not even counting trying to figure out if this one is his, is a horror show. And which would be worse--his or not his? He has no idea and has never tested it. Is it worse to be broken by an enemy or destroyed by a friend? In his own experience, definitely the latter.

If Loki was truly as smart as he knew himself to be, this is the moment he'd walk away. But he's always been a little more self-destructive than anything else, and he doesn't have anyone here yet to save him his own desire to poke at hot, red bruises or prod wounded animals with sticks.

He does, at least, have the presence of mind to not take his actual body down into actual range of whatever stabbing implements Clint might have on hand. He sends an illusion instead, something that appears to walk innocuously out of a doorway rather than doing his normal preferred trick of simply appearing in a startling fashion.

The image of Loki pauses a healthy distance away and says in a tone of extreme caution laced with just a hint of hope, "Barton?"

Eventually, Clint will probably look back on his first days here and think he should have known better, that the relative reprieve was too good to be true. Thus far everyone he's encountered has been relatively friendly, and he's been glad to see friends both old and new. But this is something entirely different: this is Loki, and to Clint, Loki is someone with whom he has unfinished business. Sure, it's been a long time now since the whole fiasco with Loki happened, and he's managed to put a lot of it behind him. But some things don't just go away, even with the passage of time.

It hasn't even occurred to him that this might not be the same Loki who brainwashed him into acting on his every whim, but unfortunately, it'll take some doing for Clint to ever look favorably on the Asgardian.

Pausing mid-drink, Clint looks up when he hears someone addressing him. The beginnings of a smile all but falls off his face when he sees the illusion that to his eyes, looks all too real. A long time ago, he used to have nightmares about confronting Loki and putting an arrow into his eye socket, but as time went by, those nightmares faded and were replaced by other things.

Still, seeing Loki again brings all those old memories right back to the forefront of his mind, and he can't stop himself from glaring daggers at the one he thinks wronged him back then. "What do you want?"

He can't even ask what he's doing here, because logically, he's there for the same reason Clint is: to help fix this broken planet. But fixing things and Loki don't belong in the same sentence, not to Clint.

This is not going to go well. Not at all. That response doesn't even give Loki a hint about which universe Clint might be from, because there isn't really any one that Loki's aware of in which Clint would be happy to great him.

Bugger. He'll blame this on being so out of sorts.

The image of Loki spreads his hands--see, no weapons immediately present. "Simply to say hello. You look well, and that gladdens my heart."

Okay, it's around the time that those words sink in that Clint decides he's being screwed around with again.

"Look, I know you." Well, he thinks he does. "You don't just show up to say hello. There's always something else following that, and that something else is never anything good." Never is a strong word, but Clint has a lot of lingering bitterness towards Loki, and he's not bothering to hide that.

"You're just here to screw with me, aren't you?" He crosses his arms in front of him, still giving him a wary look. Just because he's apparently unarmed doesn't mean he's not dangerous. "Why's that, anyway? You planning on making me your puppet again?" Just the thought of that sends a chill down Clint's spine. He'd rather die before being put under Loki's control again.

Loki's lips twist. "I don't think you do, actually." Not that it's a statement that'll help. Being a known liar has its drawbacks. Though Clint is generally right about the rest of what he says; Loki isn't the sort to casually drop by for coffee. At least not in his home universe, where he's got so much to do. Proles had been a different sort of thing, by grace of being so small.

There's a definite reaction to the mention of Clint being his puppet, like a spasm of pain crossing Loki's face, gone almost as soon as it has appeared. He doesn't like being reminded of that time. But his voice is very firm when he says, "I can think of nothing I'd like less."

"Oh, why's that? Change your name or something? At the end of the day, you're still Loki, and you're still a royal pain in the ass." And that's putting it mildly. Clint wants nothing more than to put as much distance between himself and Loki as possible, but he still has some things to say before that happens.

Loki's reaction is unexpected, but Clint tries not to let it faze him. "Now you're just trying to trick me. It's not going to work. You didn't hesitate back then, so what's making the difference now?" He gives Loki a second look, as if trying to find something that's different. From where he's standing, this is the same Loki who had him under his thrall. "Why should I believe that you're any different?"

He laughs sharply, just once. Technically, he supposes, he has changed his name, though not in the way that Clint implies. He's not going to bother with such a pathetic defense. "I've been called far worse, and by other versions of you," he says dryly. "But I suppose you're feeling rather startled."

His lips twist into something almost smile-like. "That's the best part, isn't it? You've absolutely no reason to believe I'm a different sort of monster than the one you knew. I've had this argument far too many times, and with far too many people, to think I can wag my silver tongue fast enough to undo someone else's past."

Clint resists the urge to roll his eyes; he's beginning to regret even coming this way, because there's nothing good that can come from him talking to Loki. He still has too many unresolved issues concerning him, and if this really isn't the Loki he knows, then he's probably not going to get closure here.

Never mind that the kind of closure that would really help is the kind that can't be reversed once achieved. If he can believe what Loki's saying, then it probably wouldn't be fair to try and take his revenge.

"Yeah, I bet you have. And gee, how'd you know?" He is feeling startled, and very rattled, and it kind of irks him that Loki picked up on that. But then again, he hasn't exactly been hiding it either.

"Okay, so now that we've established that much, is this the part where we just go our separate ways and try not to get in the other's way? Because I'm good with that." He'd just as soon pretend he never saw him.

"Oh, Clint," Loki says, his tone becoming almost sad. "We both know that it doesn't work that way."

Loki's presence will worry at Clint like a stone in his shoe, of this Loki has no doubt. And the fact that Clint is here, and so angry at the Loki from his universe, is like a finger pressing on a bruise. Perhaps it might not feel so bad if Loki had ever had the fortitude to apologize to Clint; that's not a particularly helpful thought either, no matter how many excuses he might wrap it in.

They could pretend, he supposes. Let Clint pretend if he likes. But Loki has decided that he's through lying to this particular friend... unless it's absolutely necessary.

Edited 2019-09-07 04:22 (UTC)

"Yeah, well, who's to say it can't work that way?" It's not really the most logical stance to take, but Loki will always be a sore spot for him, and sue him if he's not thinking straight right now.

"As far as I can tell, this is a pretty big area we've got here." Maybe it's not the most expansive place ever, but surely there's enough room for two of them, if they keep to themselves. "All I'm saying is, I don't particularly want to be in the same room as you, and, well- Maybe that's not fair, but I don't see a point in lying about it." And yes, Clint realizes he could probably be a bit more diplomatic about this, but again, it's hard to overlook the fact that the Loki from his world used him, and hurt a lot of people in the process. Unfortunately, he's not thinking too much about how best to spare this Loki's feelings.

"In an infinite multiverse, perhaps there is an instance or two where my presence doesn't worry at you like a rotten tooth," Loki says. "Perhaps this is one of them and I shall enjoy the sensation of being pleasantly surprised."

But would it really be that pleasant? Not as such. But this is one of those situations where there is no good answer, and no healing, and no absolution. Of that, he's fairly certain.

He waves a hand as if it doesn't matter. "I don't think you often see a point to lying, which is one of your better qualities. Diplomacy has ever been my job, not yours."

It's an odd fact to drop in, but he figures it's a seed worth sowing. One of the things he knows, after a great deal of listening to people from other universes, is markedly different between him and the more villainous versions of himself.

It's probably the stupidest move Clint could make, but in spite of himself, he's curious about what sets this version of Loki apart, if anything. "You say things like that, but it doesn't tell me anything. I get it, you don't owe me any explanations, at least, not anymore than I owe you."

He crosses his arms and tries to put on a less hostile air. Diplomacy might not be Clint's strong suit, but he can at least dial back the hostility a little bit. "What makes you different? Everyone says the Loki from my world was a trickster. Does that apply to you too?"

So much for wanting to put as much space between himself and Loki as possible. But then again, he can still ask some questions and then work on distancing himself. In theory, anyway.

"Another point of disagreement between us," Loki says, almost amused. "I do believe you are owed an explanation. And I am the one here, even if I am not the one who has wronged you."

He considers the question as a fair one. "Trickster. Silver-tongued liar. Dog of Asgard." He shrugs. "I am my brother's shadow. I go where he needs, and I speak sweetly where he would be a bit too... loud." His lips twitch. "I am the velvet glove that precedes the impact of the fist."

It's a very sunny explanation of what he does, but that has always been his story. He's not interested in admitting to the world that he's Asgard's assassin. Not even Thor knows the extent of that.

"Yeah, well, there's gonna be a few of those. Sorry." There's nothing apologetic in his tone, because he just can't muster up anything resembling that to accompany that particular word. "What explanation can you give? Like you said, you're not the one who did this."

He does listen to Loki's assessment of himself, because he really isn't the most objective when it comes to him. He just sees Loki as a user and a murderer; knowing what he thinks of himself won't really do any good, but for some reason, he wants to hear it anyway. "The velvet glove, huh?" Clint's laugh is dry and humorless. "Funny, I never heard Thor put it that way."

But then again, why would Thor tell him of all people anything? Yes, they have the sort of camaraderie expected of teammates, but they're not the closest either.

"You wouldn't have," he says. "From what I gather, Thor has a very different sort of relationship with his brother in your universe. Which is the rocks upon which my explanation might run aground, since I have also met one or two of these Lokis and I..."

Well, to say he doesn't understand them would be a lie. He does understand them. He just thinks they're pathetic.

"I have found them wanting," he says delicately. Not quite conscious of it, he nibbles at one fingernail. Talking to Clint is unexpectedly stressful. No, that's a lie. He expected it to be bad, but perhaps not like this. Loki has never been good at giving people honest explanations for anything, and finding himself wanting to do so is extremely disturbing. He also isn't entirely certain where to even start on his supposition. Finally he says, "Jealousy is a terrible drug for weak men."

Talking to Loki is equally stressful. For once, Clint really doesn't know what to say. There's no amount of preparation or forethought that would have made this encounter easier, and in a way, he feels like he's making a mess of it. "Well, guess we can agree there. They're definitely wanting."

He shakes his head, letting out a sigh as he does. "Wanting" is an inadequate descriptor, but it's Loki in a nutshell, in his rather colored opinion. But then he lets out a dry laugh. "I'll say it is." Loki's statement is kind of a loaded one, but in general, it rings true for most ordinary humans.

And then since he's not sure what else to say, he just kind of shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs. "Well, that was a good talk, I guess." An awkward one, but not as terrible as it could have been.

Loki snorts. Clint's last comment is a random enough one that it actually helps him regain his equilibrium. At least it feels less hostile, which is really all he can ask or hope for at this point. Small steps, subtle turns. Patience. He's learned patience the hard way.

So he offers Clint a sweeping bow that's just a little bit mocking--he's still Loki after all. "I shall look forward to our next."

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Message in a Bottle

I feel like apologizing in advance for Clint

never apologize

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