[ Brushing his hands off on his legs, Chris levers himself up to his feet and then brushes his ass off too for good measure, giving Sleipnir one last curious look before approaching him. ]
Mind if you come over here, pal? I can use these rocks as a boost to get up on your back. Probably. Unless you feel like kneeling a little to make it easier for me to reach...
[ The horse's blithe gaze sharpens as his ears flick forward and he tosses his mane again. All four legs in the middle kneel, allowing Chris to climb on with ease. ]
[ Watching Sleipnir settle himself down after Chris asked him to has him laughing quietly, taking the time to reach in and scratch under his forelock affectionately before hoisting himself up into the saddle. Reaching in to pat Sleipnir's neck, he lets him know he's settled and they can go. ]
[ There he goes, up safe and sound. Sleipnir glances around to double-check Chris is on securely then trots impatiently on the spot, eager to be off. For now, he'll let Chris direct them ... ]
[ Leaning over Sleipnir's massive neck, Chris directs him in the low murmur he automatically uses with horses even though he knows that it's really not necessary with him, aware enough of Sleipnir's intelligence hat he'll hold a one-sided conversation with him but still not quite able to get over his general horsieness to give up all his habits. He shows them around some of his favorite spots in the countryside surrounding his home, allowing himself to marvel at them in a way he doesn't normally because he's as much as tourist as he is a guide today. ]
[ Sleipnir is a good horsey-horse for Chris for fifteen minutes or so before he sees his chance. It's not that he intends to be bad, but his mother's rules are so boring and he doubts Chris will mind ...
He veers off-course toward a steep hill, gaining speed toward the top where it sheers off, and ignoring any protests from his rider he leaps off the edge.
Hooves glow like a rainbow as they kick up bright sparks and Sleipnir neighs his pleasure as he gallops through the air, racing over the treetops feet below. He can ascend whenever he wishes to with a jump, gaining on the clouds above. ]
[ Just when he thinks he's more or less developed a rapport with Loki's son, Chris gets thrown the curveball that is Sleipnir flat-out sprinting towards a sharp drop, feigning a very convincing case of deafness considering he just spent the last quarter-hour with one ear cocked backwards to listen to Chris talk to him.
Tangling his fingers in Sleipnir's mane — fuck the reins, the reins won't save him now and he's pretty sure they weren't even doing anything before anyway — Chris yelps in alarm and does his best to remember the physics of terminal velocity and how best to survive a fall from a very high height when...
They go sailing along, Sleipnir's eight hooves barely skimming the tops of the trees below, sparking and vibrant and glowing with magic as he neighs happily, undoubtedly incredibly pleased with himself. After a few minutes of trying to convince his heart rate to steady, Chris can admit that this is pretty fun, too, and he starts to look around instead of squeezing his eyes shut in terror, though his grip on Sleipnir's mane doesn't really relax at all. Better safe than sorry, right? ]
[ Dashing for the clouds, Sleipnir takes advantage of the slackened reins to toss his head and, indeed, look very pleased with himself (as much as a horse can). The damp chill smothers his flanks and Chris's clothes as they break the cloud-line, the world transforming into a fluffy tundra of sunset peaches and pinks where the only other company is a few stray birds gliding home for the evening.
It's cold, but it's beautiful. Sleipnir makes sure he can feel his passenger seated securely after every jump over rolling nimbuses. ]
Edited (what are phone tags) 2022-07-21 14:10 (UTC)
[ Loki's dire warnings about bringing a jacket even though the weather is mild are proving to be prescient; Chris is no stranger to flying, even flying happily through soft, cold, damp clouds, but usually he does all his flying safely ensconced inside some sort of aircraft or other. Not, surprisingly enough, on the back of an eight-legged stallion who can understand English even if he pretends not to.
For all that he spends the majority of his year exploring uncharted space and documenting the miracles he sees there, Chris is not immune to beauty, something that's all too evident as he looks around with a gentle sort of awe. ]
[ He slows a little so the air isn't such a fiercely whipping force, snorting his agreement. It's much nicer up here and the horizon looks like an endless pastel plain. Eventually, after Chris has had the tour, Sleipnir whinnies and his hooves hit harder (on what exactly is to be debated), kicking up sparks that travel ahead like lightning to form an archway, then a portal.
Saving Chris the stomach-churning descent as the mortal is a decent sort and that feels like enough tricks for the day, Sleipnir rides through. Quite suddenly they are back on the ground, specifically the plain a-ways behind Chris's house near a treeline where shady, misbehaved horses can portal in without being seen. ]
[ Chris has seen Loki travel through his green shimmering portals more than once, but he's never had any personal experience with them. If he was ever asked what they might feel like, he'd probably liken them to a transporter, or maybe come up with some way to explain a shiver going down his spine, some sort of sparkle or tingle or something.
He didn't expect it to feel so abrupt. One moment he and Sleipnir are coasting above the clouds, the next, all eight of the stallion's hooves are back on the ground and Chris is left blinking at a copse of trees, acutely aware of the mist clinging to his clothes and his hair the way he's clinging to Sleipnir's mane. ]
[ A rumble from the horse sounds pleased with Chris's assessment and he trots up toward the paddock as if the best behaved boy in the world, tail swishing. It's much darker on land than in the air and the sunset seems closer to dying so he makes a b-line for the other horses. ]
[ Chris isn't sure how believable Sleipnir's innocent routine is, considering they're both of them misted with dew, but he's not going to say anything, too busy letting this moment sink into him so he can remember it for years to come.
There will come a time in the not-too-distant-future that he won't be able to do anything like this any more. He's really very lucky that his life has been filled with such opportunities.
Leaning in, he strokes his hand down Sleipnir's neck. ] Thank you.
[ The whuffle Chris gets passes for a You're Welcome. At a slow pace to let the feeling come back into Chris's legs, he walks them to the paddock and stops outside the gate, looking around at his rider. This is where Sleipnir leaves him for the night. ]
[ It's clear to him now that they're here that Loki took the time to make sure Tango and Mary-Lou were looked after when Chris and Sleipnir went off for their little jaunt, and if he wasn't already in love with that man before, he definitely would be now.
"Utterly unsentimental, except when it comes to horses," indeed. Maybe he's not as utterly unsentimental as Number One might like to think, but he certainly has a soft spot for his horses, and to see that Loki took care of them while he was off makes something warm and fond glow brightly in his chest.
Sliding off Sleipnir's back, he gives the buckles of the saddle a little tug. ]
[ The saddle glows, disappears, and Sleipnir casually steps over the paddock fence with all eight legs working in unison like a very odd, smoothly mechanised centipede. Once inside he shakes out his mane and dips his head back over to nose at the front of Chris's jacket, as if to rub off some of the dewdrops and assist in their mutual fibbing cover. ]
[ He forgot, for a moment, whose son Sleipnir is. It stands to reason that if Loki can materialize and dematerialize clothing whenever he likes, his children can manage that too.
The nuzzling at his chest has him huffing another soft laugh, fond and almost indulgent, and he lets himself stroke his hand down the long slope of Sleipnir's nose, scrabbling under his forelock for good measure. ]
[ Lipping at the hem of Chris's coat passes for goodbye, and he turns away after a good scratch to his nose. The neigh Sleipnir gives echoes up to the house where the kitchen light grows brighter in return, porch-lights flicking on in anticipation of an arrival.
Up at the house, a warm drop atop the cooling evening landscape, the whole place smells like roast meat and vegetables, the figure of Loki able to be seen moving around inside to something on the radio as he plates up their dinner. ]
[ Walking up the hill with cloud-cold air still chilling his lungs, Chris finds himself whistling as he goes, drawn to the warm lights spilling out of the many large windows of his house like a moth to a flame.
Toeing out of his boots and shrugging out of his jacket, he leaves the former on the deck and drapes the latter over the back of a chair as he lets himself inside, taking a deep breath to appreciate the smell of cooking and the soft sound of music playing. ]
Honey, I'm home.
[ Loki looking all domestic as he fixes them both plates of food is simply too tempting to resist, so Chris lets himself step in close and wrap his arms around that trim waist, leaning up against Loki's back and kissing his neck as he peers over his shoulder to see what he's doing. ]
[ Throwing a smile over a shoulder as Chris returns, he lifts his arms to accept the incoming hug and makes a surprised noise ("Egods!") to find him so cold. Loki, by comparison, is all but toasty from his cookery adventures, and he half-twists around to give Chris a curious once-over. ]
[ Mist counts as rain, right? And clouds are just chunky mist. It's fine. It's not technically a lie.
He ducks his head to press his cold nose in to the crook of Loki's neck, humming happily and squeezing him lightly, enjoying the contrast in temperature that usually goes the other way. So often the first time Loki touches him after a separation feel like touching a marble statue, it's nice to have something toasty warm to cuddle up against. ]
Nyaargh. [ A very gainly squark as he twists away playfully from the nuzzle, plating up a bowl of roast veg. ] Very well, keep your secrets since the weather here was dry as a bone. Will you please get changed? You're a slimy, cold slug of a man!
[ Since the squawk was so amusing, Chris lets himself reach for Loki again, trying to drag him back into his arms and laughing at the way he resists his affections. He's not even that wet, not any more. His jacket took the brunt of it, though his jeans are starting to feel uncomfortable and his hair could use a bit of a toweling.
Still laughing, he capitulates and wanders away, disappearing for a minute to go to his room to change, scrubbing a towel over his hair but not bothering to comb it back into its usual style. He reemerges dressed as comfortably as Loki was, in soft athletic joggers and an old Academy t-shirt, the print faded and stretched out after all these years, the seam at the neck starting to fray, well-loved and comfortable. ]
[ Laughing as Chris pesters him with his chilly nose and hands, he waves him away. By the time he returns, Loki has set out their dinner and a huge leg of roast boar is still sizzling on its long plate next to the remaining bowl of vegetables, gravy, and other otherworldly sauces too (spicy plums?). Wine fills their glasses, the bottle emblazoned with an elven vintage that smells like berries and smoke. He has already done Chris the curtesy of piling some meat onto his plate, shaved off with the knife vertically sticking out of the haunch.
Loki gives him an approving nod, holding out a hand for him at the table. ]
Just about, my mysterious cowboy. Come and eat, I made an Asgardian meal to fill you up.
[ Looking at the spread Loki's created for them, Chris almost asks what the occasion is, but then he holds his tongue. Being invited to someone's home for the first time feels like as good an occasion as any, meeting someone's child for the first time, too, any number of things could be the reason Loki's made such an effort to impress. Now Chris feels like his offering of slow-oven chili and quick-rise bread was paltry in comparison. He'll just have to make an impressive breakfast to make up for it later.
Sitting where he's been told, he lets himself admire everything in front of him without trying to mitigate his expression. ] This looks incredible. Smells it, too. Thank you, sweetheart.
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Mind if you come over here, pal? I can use these rocks as a boost to get up on your back. Probably. Unless you feel like kneeling a little to make it easier for me to reach...
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He veers off-course toward a steep hill, gaining speed toward the top where it sheers off, and ignoring any protests from his rider he leaps off the edge.
Hooves glow like a rainbow as they kick up bright sparks and Sleipnir neighs his pleasure as he gallops through the air, racing over the treetops feet below. He can ascend whenever he wishes to with a jump, gaining on the clouds above. ]
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Tangling his fingers in Sleipnir's mane — fuck the reins, the reins won't save him now and he's pretty sure they weren't even doing anything before anyway — Chris yelps in alarm and does his best to remember the physics of terminal velocity and how best to survive a fall from a very high height when...
They go sailing along, Sleipnir's eight hooves barely skimming the tops of the trees below, sparking and vibrant and glowing with magic as he neighs happily, undoubtedly incredibly pleased with himself. After a few minutes of trying to convince his heart rate to steady, Chris can admit that this is pretty fun, too, and he starts to look around instead of squeezing his eyes shut in terror, though his grip on Sleipnir's mane doesn't really relax at all. Better safe than sorry, right? ]
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It's cold, but it's beautiful. Sleipnir makes sure he can feel his passenger seated securely after every jump over rolling nimbuses. ]
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For all that he spends the majority of his year exploring uncharted space and documenting the miracles he sees there, Chris is not immune to beauty, something that's all too evident as he looks around with a gentle sort of awe. ]
Oh.
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Saving Chris the stomach-churning descent as the mortal is a decent sort and that feels like enough tricks for the day, Sleipnir rides through. Quite suddenly they are back on the ground, specifically the plain a-ways behind Chris's house near a treeline where shady, misbehaved horses can portal in without being seen. ]
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He didn't expect it to feel so abrupt. One moment he and Sleipnir are coasting above the clouds, the next, all eight of the stallion's hooves are back on the ground and Chris is left blinking at a copse of trees, acutely aware of the mist clinging to his clothes and his hair the way he's clinging to Sleipnir's mane. ]
Well. That was...incredible.
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There will come a time in the not-too-distant-future that he won't be able to do anything like this any more. He's really very lucky that his life has been filled with such opportunities.
Leaning in, he strokes his hand down Sleipnir's neck. ] Thank you.
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"Utterly unsentimental, except when it comes to horses," indeed. Maybe he's not as utterly unsentimental as Number One might like to think, but he certainly has a soft spot for his horses, and to see that Loki took care of them while he was off makes something warm and fond glow brightly in his chest.
Sliding off Sleipnir's back, he gives the buckles of the saddle a little tug. ]
You need any help with this?
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Right. Never mind, then.
[ He forgot, for a moment, whose son Sleipnir is. It stands to reason that if Loki can materialize and dematerialize clothing whenever he likes, his children can manage that too.
The nuzzling at his chest has him huffing another soft laugh, fond and almost indulgent, and he lets himself stroke his hand down the long slope of Sleipnir's nose, scrabbling under his forelock for good measure. ]
Thanks, buddy.
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Up at the house, a warm drop atop the cooling evening landscape, the whole place smells like roast meat and vegetables, the figure of Loki able to be seen moving around inside to something on the radio as he plates up their dinner. ]
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Toeing out of his boots and shrugging out of his jacket, he leaves the former on the deck and drapes the latter over the back of a chair as he lets himself inside, taking a deep breath to appreciate the smell of cooking and the soft sound of music playing. ]
Honey, I'm home.
[ Loki looking all domestic as he fixes them both plates of food is simply too tempting to resist, so Chris lets himself step in close and wrap his arms around that trim waist, leaning up against Loki's back and kissing his neck as he peers over his shoulder to see what he's doing. ]
You know, I think I could get used to this.
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Was it raining? You're wet! And chilly.
[ SEEMS SUS. ]
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[ Mist counts as rain, right? And clouds are just chunky mist. It's fine. It's not technically a lie.
He ducks his head to press his cold nose in to the crook of Loki's neck, humming happily and squeezing him lightly, enjoying the contrast in temperature that usually goes the other way. So often the first time Loki touches him after a separation feel like touching a marble statue, it's nice to have something toasty warm to cuddle up against. ]
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[ Since the squawk was so amusing, Chris lets himself reach for Loki again, trying to drag him back into his arms and laughing at the way he resists his affections. He's not even that wet, not any more. His jacket took the brunt of it, though his jeans are starting to feel uncomfortable and his hair could use a bit of a toweling.
Still laughing, he capitulates and wanders away, disappearing for a minute to go to his room to change, scrubbing a towel over his hair but not bothering to comb it back into its usual style. He reemerges dressed as comfortably as Loki was, in soft athletic joggers and an old Academy t-shirt, the print faded and stretched out after all these years, the seam at the neck starting to fray, well-loved and comfortable. ]
There. Do I pass muster now?
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Loki gives him an approving nod, holding out a hand for him at the table. ]
Just about, my mysterious cowboy. Come and eat, I made an Asgardian meal to fill you up.
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[ Looking at the spread Loki's created for them, Chris almost asks what the occasion is, but then he holds his tongue. Being invited to someone's home for the first time feels like as good an occasion as any, meeting someone's child for the first time, too, any number of things could be the reason Loki's made such an effort to impress. Now Chris feels like his offering of slow-oven chili and quick-rise bread was paltry in comparison. He'll just have to make an impressive breakfast to make up for it later.
Sitting where he's been told, he lets himself admire everything in front of him without trying to mitigate his expression. ] This looks incredible. Smells it, too. Thank you, sweetheart.
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