[ In lieu of another jab in the ribs, a little flit of his fingers sends a crack of amber playing between them, a light and playful warning like static electricity. Behave!! ]
[ That earns a startled giggle but it doesn't have the effect Stephen might intend. Loki sends a shiver of green magic up his arm, chaos magic weaving a swift path up to tickle his neck before it vanishes. ]
Pardon you. After the magic passes with a startled inward snort of breath and his smirk does its best to twist into a frown, there's a suspended moment for thought before Stephen announces, resolved: ]
Least favourite.
[ Obviously the truest of true statements and not at all fake. ]
Yes, but there are other people there and I don't care about them.
[ Under the tree he hustles into Stephen's side and keeps as far back from the rain as possible. He tilts his head curiously, looking him over to see if he can pick out overt differences between this man and the sorcerer who enjoys tossing him into random portals and out of his immediate vicinity. ]
Tell me what your favourite spell is. Something you use conveniently!
[ Stephen, on the other hand, stares out at the rain as it picks up, patters against the grass. The eyes he can feel on him he resolutely ignores and turns his attention instead to Loki's question.
There are any number of answers, any number of spells. But something he uses conveniently, his favourite...
He responds with a slightly lifted hand, an almost fluid flex and waterfall wave of his fingers. At first it might not be clear that he's answering at all, but the fluidity is the answer. The slight hum of active magic that courses down that arm and into his hand with its spider-silk scars is another hint. ]
A godsend for personal grooming.
[ He jokes - godsend, a conspiratorial glance Loki's way - because it's too late to take back something that might be too personal for a casual question like this. But it is what it is: channeling magic like this for brief minutes here and there makes it easier to live. To do with relative ease the little things he used to take for granted: trim his own beard, sign his own name.
[ Active magic, free-flowing and precise for immediate use. That does look handy (haha) in its ability to be wielded in myriad ways. His smile widens at the godsend joke and he wonders how often Stephen employs that sort of small, easy powerbank of power. His fingers move with grace, so Loki supposes daily. ]
Mine? That's easy, but it isn't really magic.
[ Features shift from male to female as Loki assumes her womanly form, makeup shimmering into place on top, smokey eyes and red lips. Her stature doesn't change much aside from how she shifts her weight to account for new curves (a hip finds his more easily) and her hair ripples down until it meets her waist.
Her voice is a margin softer, an octave higher when she answers. ]
[ It's not the first time he's seen this form of hers, though this time it's considerably less dangerous to be so close. It's his turn now to look for those similarities, the differences. Softer in places. No less sharp for it. ]
Sounds like magic to me.
[ Just like breathing. Not always, of course, magic can take extreme tolls. But fact remains that it's one of the things that comes most naturally in the world to the likes of them, losing it a suffocation all its own. ]
Not a lot of good for blending into a crowd.
[ Is that a joke, an observation or a compliment? It might be a compliment. All you have to do is squint. ]
[ He lets the quiet hang for a stretched moment, narrowing his eyes back at her - what? - a slightly miffed lift at the corner of his mouth. Then it drops. Now is as good a time as any to ask what he came here to ask, abrupt as it might seem. ]
How are you? After all that.
[ After hard conversations and being so fervently wished out of existence that an offshoot self tried selling his soul to make it so, just somewhere, just once. ]
[ Her expression melts into something more genuinely thoughtful, glancing away over the rainy park. Easy to know what he's referring to. ]
... I find myself wishing Thor were here, if only to make light of the whole affair and simplify it. Not in a stupid way. He has a manner about him when it comes to odd circumstances, I might feel better if I could hear it described through his words.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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... So I am your favourite Loki.
[ THIS SEEMS THE MOST SALIENT POINT??? ]
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Pardon you. After the magic passes with a startled inward snort of breath and his smirk does its best to twist into a frown, there's a suspended moment for thought before Stephen announces, resolved: ]
Least favourite.
[ Obviously the truest of true statements and not at all fake. ]
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Cool.
[ It starts to rain and he wrinkles his nose, tugging Stephen toward a large tree. ]
Let's wait it out?
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[ But he doesn't protest being led out of the rain. ]
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[ Under the tree he hustles into Stephen's side and keeps as far back from the rain as possible. He tilts his head curiously, looking him over to see if he can pick out overt differences between this man and the sorcerer who enjoys tossing him into random portals and out of his immediate vicinity. ]
Tell me what your favourite spell is. Something you use conveniently!
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There are any number of answers, any number of spells. But something he uses conveniently, his favourite...
He responds with a slightly lifted hand, an almost fluid flex and waterfall wave of his fingers. At first it might not be clear that he's answering at all, but the fluidity is the answer. The slight hum of active magic that courses down that arm and into his hand with its spider-silk scars is another hint. ]
A godsend for personal grooming.
[ He jokes - godsend, a conspiratorial glance Loki's way - because it's too late to take back something that might be too personal for a casual question like this. But it is what it is: channeling magic like this for brief minutes here and there makes it easier to live. To do with relative ease the little things he used to take for granted: trim his own beard, sign his own name.
He lowers his hand and the magic fizzles out. ]
And yours?
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Mine? That's easy, but it isn't really magic.
[ Features shift from male to female as Loki assumes her womanly form, makeup shimmering into place on top, smokey eyes and red lips. Her stature doesn't change much aside from how she shifts her weight to account for new curves (a hip finds his more easily) and her hair ripples down until it meets her waist.
Her voice is a margin softer, an octave higher when she answers. ]
Just like breathing, really.
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Sounds like magic to me.
[ Just like breathing. Not always, of course, magic can take extreme tolls. But fact remains that it's one of the things that comes most naturally in the world to the likes of them, losing it a suffocation all its own. ]
Not a lot of good for blending into a crowd.
[ Is that a joke, an observation or a compliment? It might be a compliment. All you have to do is squint. ]
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You are thinking of illusions, this is not one. This is me.
[ Her arm in his gives a squeeze. ]
If you feel I am tricking you, I can always turn back. [ Her lips curl in a mischievous smile. ] You seem to have no preference, so far.
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[ It's exactly none of his business how she chooses to be. They're just two magical folks hanging out under a tree, watching the rain fall. ]
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[ Narrowing her eyes after a moment!! ]
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How are you? After all that.
[ After hard conversations and being so fervently wished out of existence that an offshoot self tried selling his soul to make it so, just somewhere, just once. ]
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... I find myself wishing Thor were here, if only to make light of the whole affair and simplify it. Not in a stupid way. He has a manner about him when it comes to odd circumstances, I might feel better if I could hear it described through his words.