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@heimskringlas
the selfish are lonely and detached from the heart. alone on the stage while playing your part. give them a smile, take your last bow. the crowd is clapping for this fictitious avow.
semi selective and mutuals only blog for loki of record of ragnarok. oc, duplicate, multimuse and crossover friendly. 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯. ( they / them. 30. ) established august 2025. minors please do not interact. carrd. ━━━ it doesn't simply go my way. i make it.
woe, clown be upon ye. hello, hello! this is a brand new blog for SHADOW MILK COOKIE of COOKIE RUN: KINGDOM, written by avalon. i'm duplicate, original character, multimuse and crossover friendly! if you're interested in interacting, i would really appreciate it if you gave this post a quick LIKE or REBLOG! thank you so much!
woe, clown be upon ye. hello, hello! this is a brand new blog for SHADOW MILK COOKIE of COOKIE RUN: KINGDOM, written by avalon. i'm duplicate, original character, multimuse and crossover friendly! if you're interested in interacting, i would really appreciate it if you gave this post a quick LIKE or REBLOG! thank you so much!
new year, new weird guy taking up space in my brain to add to the collection! ( i'll make and reblog a proper promo later, but consider this a sneak peek. )
. . . . . . .
― ― GREATNESS BEGINS BEYOND YOUR COMFORT ZONE.
― Robin S. Sharma
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independent and selective multimuse blog, featuring muses from video games, anime, and various other forms of media. please read google doc before interacting. penned by spencer, she/they, 25+. minors dni. multifandom, crossover and oc friendly. dark themes will be present, triggers will be tagged.
i swear i'm alive, i'm just suffering from a complete inability to enjoy things in moderation.
"Okay Lord Loki, hear me out. A shark illusion coming out of a strawberry shortcake but it's exactly the dessert." She looked at the deity with a notepad. Was she hungry, was she serious - her thoughts when it came to her tricks were on a different level.
@heimskringlas // starter
❝ strawberry shortcake shark, huh? ❞ with a swirl of dark mist, an identical notepad appears in the trickster's hands — alongside a pencil, which he tap-taps against the page. ( it's more of a prop than anything else; presentation is so important in his line of work. ) intentionally or otherwise, it feels as if she's settled down for a job interview with the god of mischief himself. ❝ points for creativity, ❞ loki continues aloud, ❝ i can see what you're going for ... although, if you reeeally want to stick with the theme, you might be better off going with blueberry. ❞
the trickster squints. ❝ do they even make blueberry shortcake? ❞ he pretends to scribble down another note. the page is quickly filling with a doodle of a shark bursting out of a multi-tiered birthday cake.
im doing good! you know. besides the underlying feeling that I'm fundamentally incapable of fitting in in a society. besides that i'm chillin
Jovanni stares deeply at Loki. He doesn't say word. He just listens. He wants to hear everything his god has to say. He feels his heart break for a moment. To learn that even his god has lost someone close to him. A child nonetheless. The moment of sorrow he feels is painted all over his face. He feels small itch of rage for Loki. He been feeling that alot lately but, he doesn't act on it. Loki's family issues...he refuses to make them any worse by attempting to stick his nose into it. Yet, in this moment he feels the need to do something.
He grabs him. Not in aggressive way. The most gentle of touch is pushed again Loki wrist. He pulls him into his chest. One hand wrapped around the back of his head and other on the small of his back. He holds him deep into his chest.
"I am so sorry." He speak it in whisper. "I am so sorry you lost your SON. I don't think anyone has told you this but, I fucking will. It's ok to be NOT Ok. You don't have to keep your walls up around. I will sign my soul away to you RIGHT now if means you can cry about your SON to someone. You deserve to have someone care about how you feel. I am just human but, I love you." He says it to him in this momnet still softly crying and holding onto Loki tightly.
❝ hey ... ❞ the protest is weak, more brittle than melting ice. the embrace is warm and comforting, but loki doesn't return it — he doesn't feel like he deserves to. he feels drained, strangely. a peculiar kind of exhaustion is pulling at his bones — and shouldn't he be exempt from that kind of thing? he is a god, after all; not some flimsy human who might just drop dead if he pushes himself too hard. yet the trickster feels uncharacteristically brittle, as if merely recounting the tale has left him hollowed out in a way he can't simply bounce back from with his usual vigor. it makes no sense. it's unfair. it's embarrassing. however, he still doesn't pull away. he tells himself it's only because he doesn't have the energy to — and not because there's a part of him that doesn't want this fragile moment to end.
❝ i wasn't telling you that because i wanted sympathy, you know. ❞ loki says, voice muffled. ❝ i was trying to make a point. can't say i've ever been stranded in a new universe before, but i've ... had people die on me. ❞ the words feel tacky, like sickeningly sweet caramel that threatens to glue his teeth together. he doesn't want to admit his own fault in the matter — what could he have done? although, there are times when the question does haunt him. surely loki of all gods could come up with a clever solution. ( it's easier not to think about the cost of his own inaction. ) ❝ just saying ... legends have a convenient way of sanding down all those pesky rough edges ... you're not a failure — you're just like everyone else. ❞
honestly, he's probably better than most of that lot — he actually managed to get on loki's good side, after all. not an easy feat.
❝ what happened to jormungandr can't be helped now ... ❞ the trickster continues. he trails off, a long pause following the admission — as if he needs a moment to carefully get his thoughts in order before he continues. ❝ but ... for what it's worth, thanks. you're the first person who didn't just write him off as a monster, so ... ❞ another pause. an unsteady breath. ❝ so yeah. thanks. ❞
he's… weird. this guy is weird. kaneda's eyebrows raise in sharp shapes that contrast his somewhat rounded face, creating the expression of confused anger. ❝ how do i know you ain't done nothin' ? ❞ his voice is just as sharp as his brow, and despite being the same height as the stranger, he feels as though he's being towered over. some trick of the posture, something like that. he feels himself seething, but he can't do anything just yet. or, well, he could, but he'd rather have conformation that there was a reason to bust this guy up like he would any one else who messed with his bike, or his turf.
❝ there's nothin' special about you. ❞ a rather harsh sentiment from the biker, but an honest one. he reaches out in an attempt to push the stranger aside and walk towards his bike, inspecting it for anything different. it takes him a moment, going over a few sections with a metaphorical fine tooth comb. surprisingly, he finds nothing. he leans back, puzzled. ❝ so you didn't do anything to it now. but why were you gettin' so close to it ? don't you have anywhere else to be ? ❞
❝ huuuh? oh, that's easy ~ ♫ ❞ the trickster suddenly shifts his weight, swaying backwards to balance on his heels instead. he gestures dramatically with a sweep of the arm. ❝ if i reeeally wanted to mess around with this bike of yours, i'd make it into a spectacle ... i mean, what's the point in pulling a prank without an audience? i'd rather enjoy the look on your face. ❞ loki tap-taps one painted nail to his own cheek, lips curving in a wide grin. he could loosen every little screw so it gradually collapses into a sad pile of metal the next time he tries to ride it — but why would he waste his time and effort if the trickster ultimately isn't around to point and laugh? it's like setting up a joke without telling the punchline.
he sways a bit when the human shoves past him — not because the push is hard enough to rattle a god, but simply because he feels like it. nothing special. hah. oh, if only he knew. trust a mortal to flaunt their sense of hubris.
❝ i was only curious. ❞ loki tells him — and it's easily the most honest thing he's said thus far. ❝ where i'm from, we don't have anything like this, you know? our transportation is different. ❞ more advanced. more versatile — valhalla is filled with a medley of floating islands and facilities that wouldn't be accessible with such a contraption. but it is charming in its own way. ❝ buuut to answer your question ... not really. ❞ the trickster seems almost proud to admit as much. he has more free time than he knows what to do with. of course, most immortals do. ❝ just bored and looking for entertainment. you can read into it if you wanna, but you're going to end up preeetty disappointed. ❞
"I'm sure there are, but I'm asking you." Tezcatlipoca waves his hand dismissively. He had no interest on parading around with Odin's slaves, rather, he would grant this other god the unspoken honor instead. Besides, he looked miserable, so it was obvious that his company would be way more entertaining than any bootlicker's.
Before Loki's inquiries, he shrugs noncommittally, "I'm not particularly interested in anything. I'm sure whatever they have, we already have better." that wasn't arrogance, but a simple truth he fully believed, "But it's customary to explore new places you find yourself in, so I'm choosing you as my guide. Just chose some places. Oh, and..." a finger rises up to point at Loki's nose, "You can tell me more about that asshole as we walk. What was was you mentioned about doing his dirty work?"
❝ ... right. ❞ already better, huh? loki deliberately chooses not to engage with that particular quip — seems like everyone thinks their pantheon is the best of the bunch. ( he wonders how easy it would be to use that to spark an argument. ) it's not an opinion he feels particularly strongly about; the norse are fine, but he holds no loyalty to them beyond what they can do to benefit him; odin simply found him first. if the greeks offered a better deal, loki doesn't doubt he'd jump at the opportunity to take it — assuming the old man wouldn't skin him alive for the betrayal. which he might. the allfather sure was one sadistic bastard. clicking his tongue, loki decides to lead them in the direction of one of asgard's many, many gardens. he doesn't have any secret fondness for greenery, nor does his companion seem the type to get all worked up over flowers — but there's too many gods milling around the council hall, and the crowd is beginning to make his skin crawl. he needs air.
loki squints at the finger pointed at his nose. there's an impulse itching at the back of his skull to bite — instinct formed of habit. instead, he swats his hand away. ❝ don't get any big ideas about using what i've told you to get a leg up on odin. ❞ loki warns him. ❝ you'd be wasting your breath; no one would believe you. ❞ evidently he isn't considered a trusted source. go figure.
❝ anyway ... ❞ anyway. because he doesn't really care enough not to tell him — and admittedly, there's something a little bit cathartic about getting the chance to complain about the grumpy bastard. ❝ it means exactly what it sounds like. i get rid of his problems. the ones he can't take care of himself — y'know, the ones it'd look bad for the allfather to have a hand in. ❞ sometimes it's colluding with unsavory types. most often it's assassinating anyone who stands to pose a threat to his ironclad control. it doesn't bother loki; he enjoys the bloodshed. getting ordered around, less so. ❝ he's not exactly lighting up the room to begin with, but old man odin is even less pleasant behind closed doors ... if you can believe it. ❞
The look of pain upon his face is so visble it could hurt the very air around Jovanni. He was crying like child. A child who had just been beaten by their father or mother. A primal fear that gripped the Joestar's heart. A fear so deep it was shaking his soul to it's core. He looked up into the eyes of his god. The look was begging for mercy. Begging for help from someone more powerful then him. Jovanni never begged for anything. Jovanni rarely asked for help. This was different. This was about HIS KIDS.
"....MY KIDS." He pledged gripping Loki tighten. "ORCHID. She was one my daughters....LOKI." He tears up again and starts to sob as his voice cracks. "Her mother....Honey ( @sweet-chimera ). She named her Jouyella. HER FULL NAME IS JOUYELLA JOESTAR." He shook Loki not violencely but, with passion as if this simple fact was a nuclear bomb.
"SHE HAS THE PURPLE STAR ON HER SHOULDER TOO I SAW IT LOKI. Y-you have to understand....the Joestar are cursed. I thought the curse died in old universe BUT, ANYONE with Joestar last name and...if their name has any other JO in it. They become JOJO LOKI. They get cursed by FATE. I KNOW IT SOUNDS LIKE NOTHING BUT IT'S REAL. SHE NOW DESTINED TO FACE SOME GREAT EVIL LOKI. WE HAVE TO STOP IT." The sound of his voice is most desperate he ever sounded towards his god.
"It RUNS in my family LOKI. Every Joestar in every generation ENDS UP IN A FUCKING BLOOD BATH AND THEIR FRIENDS AND SOMETIME FAMILY DIES. I SEEN IT HAPPEN BEFORE. IT HAPPENED TO ME LOKI." He finally paused.
"I need your help. We have to stop it.....I need you....I need you take me to the FATES."
❝ ... ❞ the trickster stares, wobbling a bit as jovanni shakes him — but remaining completely motionless otherwise. even his expression remains unchanged; an unblinking, unwavering stare. it's a lot to take in. family curses, magical birthmarks, some looming yet indistinct evil destined to swoop in and cause problems. the more he learns about the human and his strange life, the less his story resembles the dreary, mundane existence loki usually attributes to mortals. he really wouldn't seem too terribly out of place among those heroes of myth he speaks so highly about. ( sooner or later, he HAS to realize that. right? ) were it coming from anyone else, the display might serve as a delightful source of entertainment. he can't help but bemoan that fact, just a little bit.
❝ the fates? ❞ the request suddenly shakes loki out of his thoughts. fates, norns, whatever one might call them. weavers of destiny, whose predictions even the gods themselves are powerless to fight against. the very idea that jovanni might be able to reason with them is laughable — no, even getting an audience with them is all but impossible. ❝ they won't listen to you. ❞ loki tells him, words bleeding into a whine as he recognizes their futility. ( knowing jovanni, it doesn't matter what he says. ) crossing his arms, he exhales a huff before muttering, ❝ ... they won't even listen to me. ❞ oh, he doesn't like this. he doesn't like acknowledging that his own abilities are limited in any capacity. ❝ are you sure there isn't any other way? burn some sage or — something? ❞ there has to be some solution to this family curse business, right? something that doesn't involve trying to bargain with forces that hold sway over fate itself.
still. jovanni came to him for this. to protect his kid — and didn't loki promise to do that?
the god averts his gaze, pretending to look at one of the many paintings adorning his walls. ❝ what are you going to say? ❞ the trickster asks after a moment of thought. ❝ before you get any ideas, ❞ he quickly holds up a finger, ❝ i can't promise i can get you in to talk to them ... but assuming i work a miracle, you're going to need a reeeally compelling argument. ❞
@unluckieststar &&. SAID... Jovanni had burst into Loki room. His whole body language was frantic and disheveled as if everything had sudden come crushing down upon his head. He ran up to loki dropping to his knees in a fit. "...YOU HAVE TO SAVE THEM. PLEASE. I DON'T CARE WHAT I HAVE TO DO FOR YOU. PLEASE. PLEASE YOU TO SAFE THEM FROM THIS I AM BEGGING PLEASE." He gripping the front of Loki shirt as his hand trumble as tears roll down his eyes.
he hadn't been doing anything too terribly important — although if asked, loki would certainly jump at the chance to weave some grandiose tale about how everything he did was but another crucial step in a scheme too devious for feebler minds to comprehend. in truth, he was simply rearranging his room. it grew boring keeping everything in the same place, decorating the walls with the same paintings. made it difficult to focus, too; he couldn't resist the urge to nudge things around from time to time. add a few things, take some away, move the couch somewhere he could drape himself over like a fainting maiden at some minor inconvenience. he was holding a painting in his hands — a landscape he'd intended to look gloomy, but the dark palette made it look muddy and unappealing instead. he had been glaring daggers at it for months, always swearing he would get rid of it sooner or later, but never getting around to it until that very moment. perhaps he could burn it? that could be fun.
the trickster's train of thought is soon interrupted when jovanni runs into the room. the human looked worked up — more worked up than he had ever seen before. loki opened his mouth, already preparing a snarky little quip about someone ruffling his feathers, only for the words to die in his throat as the mortal sank to the ground before him. oh. no jokes, then; this was no laughing matter.
❝ what? ❞ is all he can think to say. the trickster starts to float away a bit on reflex — only for the hand curled into his clothes to stop him like a tethered balloon. it takes loki several agonizingly long seconds to process what jovanni is saying, although even that fails to shed much light on the situation. is he crying? ❝ ... hey. ❞ a hand raises awkwardly, hovering in the air for a moment before coming to settle on the human's shoulder. he rests it there, neither pulling him closer nor pushing him away — the light pressure serving as a reminder of presence, if nothing else. ❝ hey, hey, hey. calm down. breathe. ❞ seriously, he isn't good with this kind of thing at all. ❝ my powers might be numerous, but that doesn't mean i'm a mind reader. tell me what's going on. ❞
the sound of his own voice surprises him; he seems worried — and upon careful consideration, loki begrudgingly admits that he is. this kind of behavior is highly unusual coming from the likes of jovanni. whatever is going on, it must be serious ... and somehow, he's come to actually care.
「 Semi-plotted starter w/ @heimskringlas 」
Brunhilde once was the oldest Valkyrie before her downfall in combat, which was a potential fate anyone could succumb to during times of war. Death, after all, wasn't one to judge who deserved to live nor to die, it simply took away regardless of virtues and sins. This, too, had been her case.
Fortunately, or not depending on who was asked about such matters, her soul had been worth reincarnation in a somewhat more peaceful time. She had ended up in Midgard, or Earth as it was known — her beloved humans that now she had come to join.
A life without memories of her past, an exhausted college student who worked to subsist. It was bittersweet, it was rewarding in its own way.
Hilda, as she had been named, wasn't having a great day, or week. A month, in fact, had gone by. But a mixture of sleep deprivation that a quick caffeine fix would do, and her emerald green eyes stumbled upon an unfamiliar scene before her that she couldn't help but to laugh at — it was the first heartfelt laugh she has in a while, loud and without filter as she tried to cover her mouth with her palm to be quieter as her feet took steps towards the unknown man that now sat upon a patch of grass.
❝ Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to, it's just, who does that? ❞, she stood before him, bending slightly her back to rest one hand upon her knee while the other reached to delicately grab between fingertips a leaf caught on his hair. ❝ That was quite the fall, are you alright? ❞. A gentle tone, a quiet one that seemed to swear secrecy between them, contrary to the spectacular fall she witnessed from this man and a tree with a rotten branch. Her fingertips caught the leaf and made sure to let it slowly be swayed away by the wind, but she kept holding out her hand for him to reach if he wanted help to stand up.
he still didn't believe it, even when the news reached his ears. brunhilde — dead? no, no. that wasn't possible. loki would call it a joke if the very notion wasn't so horrifically devoid of any humor. it felt as if his entire world had crumbled apart in an instant. the smile he dreamed of, the laughter he craved, wiped away so anticlimactically — one casualty among countless in a war the trickster hadn't especially cared about beyond what entertainment it could bring him. he couldn't even take pleasure in slaughtering her killer; he didn't know who was responsible. ( although, he very nearly killed the messenger in their stead. ) loki refused to believe it. he couldn't believe it, because believing would make it real — yet as days bled into weeks, the stares directed his way began to turn piteous. exactly how many people were quietly aware of his true feelings? no, it didn't matter. they were treating him like he was fragile, and the trickster hated it.
he raged. he screamed. he tore his room to pieces. burned paintings. ran through his entire repertoire of copies just to have an endless stream of things to kill. he even tried to bargain with the old man — surely the allfather of all gods would be able to bring her back? nothing worked. she was still gone, and loki was alone. left behind with a wound he couldn't see, but could certainly feel the sting of as it gradually bled him dry.
it had been years since, but that hardly mattered. to a god like loki, centuries passed in the blink of an eye; entire civilizations practically rose and fell before he decided what he wanted to have for lunch. he sought refuge in midgard more frequently now. humanity collectively mattered less to him than the dirt he refused to walk on — but hanging around the vermin was preferable to the alternative. at least they didn't stare at him with those pathetic, sad eyes. like he was broken. like he was a wounded animal, limping through their golden halls. it made him wish for the days where they all cowered in terror of his blood. it was easier to be feared than coddled. a shame he lacked the energy to do anything wretched enough to remind them all what he was capable of.
he'd been perched in a tree, people watching and sulking a bit over something pointless and petty. he hadn't noticed just how flimsy the rotten branch beneath him was until it suddenly snapped — dropping him in a pile of leaves before he even had the chance to float. the trickster sat there for a moment, glaring daggers at the tree above him. he briefly considered burning it, or cutting it into a dozen jagged pieces. maybe both.
he didn't get the chance before a familiar sound reached his ears.
laughter. her laugher. the god of mischief turned, eyes widening at the sight that greeted him. hilde. his throat went painfully tight — too tight to even speak. was this a trick? an illusion? his mind raced for an explanation, only to come up woefully short. it felt like any grab at logic slipped through the gaps in his fingers like smoke. loki stared at the hand she offered to him as if he had never seen one before in his entire life. ❝ i ... ❞ even his own voice sounded unfamiliar, some flimsy and fragile thing that he hated. after a moment of hesitation, the trickster reached out to take her hand. she felt warm. she felt alive. what was going on here?
❝ do i know you? ❞ please say yes.
❝ I NEVER CLAIMED TO BE A SAINT, DID I? ❞ The Gates of Hell spoke, her casual grin showing to warn the other of the sharp maw waiting underneath. He could be a new item on the menu for her to dine on if he continued with his antics. The way he carried, or floated, around & near her was making The Wrathful feel her horrid sin, but she bites it back with a growing grin as she extends out to brush back dark hair. [ oh, he's as good as dead once she gets her hands on him. ] However, the grin bared the sin of sadism clearly to the entity before her, wondering if he would taste different from the other demons & rodents she was used to hunting.
He could become a prey, but right now, she would only step toward him when he mentioned stepping on the line, shrugging her shoulders as she spoke. ❝ Hey, if you step on it, can I step on your fucking skull & crack it open?! I think that sounds like a lot of fun, eh~? ❞
❝ you are a feisty one, aren't you? ❞ the trickster purrs — and though the words may appear complimentary, they're dripping with condescension. it's clear he doesn't take her seriously at all. although in all fairness, loki isn't one to take most things seriously to begin with. the old man sternly grimaces more than enough for the both of them. ❝ who even wants to be a saint, anyway? i'd rather spend my time setting a bad example. ❞ under different circumstances, the trickster would compliment her bloodlust. he loves a good show, after all — the gorier, the better. it's simply a bit laughable that she thinks she can threaten him. god of mischief, father of wolves, odin's faceless assassin. his veins run with something far more foul than what the average deity can lay claim to. perhaps unholy wasn't too inaccurate after all.
❝ think you caaan? ❞ loki doesn't retreat when she advances. he smiles, unbothered as ever — but there's a certain sharpness the expression that feels very revealing, like an implicit threat. ❝ kill a god? i have my doubts. ❞
He paused for moment looking at the shirts before him. He stared for a long moment before finally saying. "O my god, I do look like hat man....ooh I hope I didn't become source of meme by mistake or something." He did have bad habit of scaring normal people because his adventure bought him to strange places and sometimes he spooked people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He sighs and takes the shirt that Loki points too. He slides the Hat man shirt over his body. He fills it out well as he puts his hand back on. He looks over at Loki. "How can not wear what my god likes the most." He beams at him. Jovanni just....JUST liked to see Loki smile. Even if it meant he look foolish or it was just to amuse him. He didn't think Loki smile enough. Not REAL smiles. Smiles where he was enjoying himself. He deserved to smile in the Joestar eyes.
"Ya know maybe one these days. We could pull some pranks where stand in color and you make some spooky illusions around me and we scare the skins off of people."
❝ you? the hat man? cooould be. ❞ he raises a hand to his chin, drifting around the human in a slow circle. ❝ pop quiz — if someone owes you money, what do you do? choose your answer veeery carefully, okay? it might unveil your secret identity. ❞ the trickster's eyes glitter with amusement — it's so nice having someone actually willing to play along! his fellow norse tend to veer so stern and humorless that getting a simple response feels like a monumental effort. the old man only ever laughs when things are going his way, and it's downright creepy. ( and half of the time, he isn't even sure if thor knows HOW to laugh. ) forseti just whines and heimdall isn't especially fun or available either. it really is such a tragedy. ❝ ... look at the bright side, ❞ loki continues aloud, ❝ you've made quite the legacy for yourself, if so. that's something to be proud of, right? ❞
he's half expecting jovanni to refuse the ridiculous shirt on principle, but the mortal doesn't even hesitate to put it on. the trickster laughs, the sound high and pure and unmistakably genuine. ❝ aw, it looks good on you. ❞ he tells him, grinning widely.
more importantly, the suggestion quickly catches loki's attention. ❝ oh? i like the way you think. ❞ the god of mischief could hardly refuse such a golden opportunity, now could he? ❝ the gods of valhalla might be a little too behind the times to get the reference, but i'm sure there's plenty of suckers on midgard ... is there anyone you wanna mess with? sometimes, i take requests. ❞
It is only in that moment then, that the smoking mirror realizes something about his newest acquaintance, Loki: the fact that even after hearing his name, he doesn't realize who Tezcatlipoca is. Lips part to speak again, but then they close as he holds back, an idea swirling inside his head giving gorm to an amused smirk. Thus he simply hums noncommittally and pays attention to the rest of the meeting.
Said reunion ends with the final vote for the fate of humanity. Both Tezcatlipoca and Loki vote for destruction, but among the sea of gods their opinions are drowned. What a pain. Yet, it marks the end of the day, and as other gods start to get up to leave, Tezcatlipoca thinks he shouldn't let go off this chance.
"Hey." he tugs at a tuft of Loki's hair to call his attention, "Show me around; I've never been here before. You're Nordic, right?" he recognized the name of Odion from his previous words, and he was curious about the dirty work part, so this would serve as a good opportunity to dig further, "I want to see what's so great about the one-eyed oldman and this Valhalla place. So, show me."
he votes for destruction — he always votes for destruction. the mortals haven't done anything too egregious, but unlike some of the gods campaigning for their continued existence, loki holds no particular love towards humanity. perhaps it's mutual; they don't seem especially fond of him, either. ( then again, is anyone? ) their lives would be better suited as kindling; at least razing midgard would make for an interesting spectacle. like crushing an anthill into a miserable pile of dirt.
with a yawn to exaggerate his disinterest, loki moves to leave — only to freeze when the god sitting beside him tugs on his hair. he shoots him a look, wrinkling his nose. ( not like it matters; this guy doesn't seem to do boundaries, does he? ) ❝ you want me to what? ❞ eyes narrow as he processes the request. show him around? seriously? ❝ do i look like some kind of tour guide to you? ❞ loki bats unenthusiastically at his hands — no touching. ❝ old man has servants all over the place. i'm sure they'd be fawning over the chance to show you around. or they'd be really good at pretending to. ❞ it's not like he's under any particular obligation to talk the allfather and his golden spectacle up, right? they built this place long before loki darkened its doorstep; he's just benefitting from its luxuries like a useful parasite. however, he has a sneaking suspicion this smoking mirror god isn't the type to take no for an answer. geez, why does he have to get stuck dealing with someone so troublesome?
❝ what are you even interested in, huh? ❞ loki suddenly asks, running a hand through his hair with an audible sigh. it sounds like an indirect admittance of defeat. it kind of is, and he hates that. ❝ food and drink? books? pretentious architecture? ❞ lucky him, they have them all.
