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 Posted: Thu Sep 24, 2009 8:26 pm
 It was truly different from what he had read of Asgard.
A culture-shock, really; gone were the extravagant ways of Aesir life, giving way to the simple, boisterous goings-ons of the residents of Midgard. He felt he had been there before, many years ago, but things had likely changed quite drastically since then. Humans were finding more efficient ways to live, although their methods differed vastly from their more godly counterparts.
Well, he loved it. People of all shapes, sizes, and colors were bustling around, tending to their shops or going on walks, or even begging for change. Certainly a colorful bunch, the diversity was both pleasing to the eye and confusing. It was still quite early in the day, and yet there were already so many people out and about. Being a bit small in stature, he couldn't help but feel he might be crushed if he should fall.
Heels wrought in iron clacked noisily against the cobblestone ground, the decoratively-clad man cheerily weaving against the flow of the crowd with practiced ease. He was pleased when he nearly caused a collision, and delighted in hearing the words tossed his way when he didn't bother stopping. What did they expect him to do, stop the entire flow of traffic to help a woman up? Gods, he wasn't a saint.
Yes, humans were quite fun, although not as fun as gods. Both were fairly easy to bait, and both had their strengths and weaknesses, but he would admit to feeling much safer taunting a human. That, and humans were so... impressionable, so ready to throw the responsibility onto someone else and do what they would. What would they say if they knew their gods were almost as bad as they? He might go as far to say that they were just as bad, although that would require tossing away what little pride he had to do so.
Fingers tapped against a growing smirk, a fingernail hooking in his lip. Today had been a fine day, Loki had thought, to visit the bowl of sin that was Midgard, to get away from the "guileless" (he laughed at the thought) gods and goddesses he had worked so hard to get close to. There was only so much one could do before he was given an early death, and he intended to live his life as long as he could. And enjoy it. He blinked when something caught his eye amidst the droll, neutral-toned village.
"My, my," he mused, tone low but certainly laced with his usual habit of sarcasm. "And what have we here? A diamond in the rough, or perhaps a gold coin among aged bronze." Having never been keen on self-restraint, the Norse figure bounded forth, making the action swift and quiet. After a moment, he was poised on a nearby rooftop, golden chain laced between long fingers. He had snatched it from the Twilif's horn, having found its radiance to be very much to his liking, and now admired it against the light.
"This is beautiful!" he rejoiced, enjoying the way it felt as it slid between his fingers. He would not let it fall. "You are very fortunate to own something so lovely, but perhaps it would look better on me?"
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Posted: Mon Sep 28, 2009 4:17 pm
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It was disgusting.
People crowded the streets, colorfully dressed bodies pressed close to one another, raised voices culminating into a roar of discord. Dirtied beggars pleaded for food, gold, anything, reaching their grimy fingers out in an attempt to grasp at him. Shop owners screamed their prices at him, haggling their goods even though he was obviously not interested. The villagers paid more attention to their mules than they did him, violently brushing past him in order to get to their locations more quickly.
Did they not know who he was?
He sighed in disgust, his face turned downwards into a disgruntled snarl. If only he was back home, where these peasants would actually treat him with respect. If only he had back his fine jewelry, his ornate overcoats and jackets, his silken capes and glittering rings, instead of just the mediocre golden chains wrapped around his horn and wrist.
If only he were still a prince.
After spitting out a few not-so-polite comments at some passerby that rushed past him too closely, he started down the street. His bare feet padded softly down the cobblestones, the noise swept away in the wave of clatter. There must be a carriage somewhere in this accursed town, or a horse. Or at least some sort of travel device. They must be at least that civilized.
Nearby, a young woman collapsed to the ground, her hand still clutching the parcel of meat she had been trying to steal. Towering above her stood the butcher, his blood-stained apron stretching tightly across his muscled chest. A rough hewn wooden club rested in one of his hands. Raolian looked at him with disgust, the corners of his lips turned down in a grimace. The butcher stared back, his mouth slightly agape.
"She touched my meat." His voice was slow and cumbersome.
Or maybe they weren't that civilized.
He hurried past, his skin pulsing erratically with annoyance, throwing out vivid reds, burnt oranges, and golden yellows. He saw the passerby stare at him in wonder, their expressions those of confusion. These peasants did not even recognize the Royal Lights. How uncultured. He made a quick turn, choosing to walk down a less-crowded alleyway. Anything to get away from these imbeciles.
A breeze brushed past him, jangling the golden chain on his horn and carrying the familiar scents of ocean brine. He stopped suddenly, upsetting the few villagers behind him. Where there was water, there were ships. And ships meant a way to get back home. He started forward, his movements resolute and sure. He was finally going home.
He reached upward to fix his chain, his small fingers searching for the golden jewelry. His hand searched the length of the horn, his fingers sliding along the rough surface quicker and quicker as his disparity grew. Finally, he stopped.
It was gone.
He whirled around, searching for the chain. Nothing lay on the streets but fallen leaves and mounds of dirt. It must have been one of these filthy people. He looked through the crowds of people, searching for the thief. His eyes narrowed on a nearby beggar, his soiled clothes attracting swarms of flies. Who would have better motive than that pile of scum?
Sunlight glinted into his eyes, causing him to stop in his tracks. He looked upward from where it had come from, and his eyes narrowed in anger. A man lounged on the rooftop, a golden chain dangling from his hand.
"You thief! Unhand my possessions, you fool! That is property of the royal family!"
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Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2009 10:18 pm
He had taken delight in watching him pause, note the breeze, feel his horn idly for his chain. A smirk curved his lip when realization dawned on the golden one's face, wider still when he cast his suspicious, vehement gaze toward some filthy old beggar. Oh, how he loved to watch, much more so when he had a direct involvement with whatever scene was currently unfolding. It didn't take long for the twilif to slide accusing eyes toward him - such fire! They held such fire he had not seen in a while, and it gave him a pleasant, familiar shiver.
He only laughed mirthfully at the command, eyebrows knitting upward in a look of mild concern and amusement. Standing, he swept a hand at the back of his trousers, dusting them in quick, patting motions. Took his time to fully stand, letting the chain dangle precariously between his fingers. A slight breeze may have sent it flying, and he wasn't certain that the delicate gold could withstand the fall to the dusty streets below.
"Silly boy!" he called, cutting the air with his arm. "And is that how you speak to someone who is both taller and currently in a position of power over you?" If what the boy said was true, he certainly lacked the authority to be stealing; why, he could be beheaded for such an act.
So, why did the thought amuse him more than frighten him? He never was a smart one, if the ancient documents were anything to go by.
Suddenly crouching down, Loki knelt and peered over the ledge, an elbow resting on his knee with hand - and chain - dandling out. A snide look crossed his feature, eyes aglow in delight. Lips parted to quietly ask, "You want this?" His eyes narrowed, his look darkened; fingers played with the chain, let it slip, then caught it. He wouldn't bother if the boy hadn't seemed to care so much, for what point was there in causing havoc if no reaction was to be had? It didn't matter if the victims didn't see it in the same light. That was what the games were all about.
All movement froze, Loki becoming still as a breeze dusted the alley again. Keeping his eyes glued to the only appealing thing in the alley - other than himself, of course - he held the chain at arm's length, pinched delicately between forefinger and thumb. The buoyant smile was once again plastered to his face, although noticeably darker than before.
"Come and get it, then."
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