♔ Good Deeds and The Punished ♚ [ w. Gladis ! ]

[brinary]

"Danke, danke…"

 

He'd left his usual eccentric coat at the apartment today and opted for a brightly colored neon yellow, purple, and blue windbreaker that proudly boasted some franchise from the late 80s. Crepe and frappucino in hand, Oliver left the small café with the smooth rubbing and crinkling of his windbreaker following after him. It was in in the middle of the afternoon and he had absolutely no idea how to get to the large clearing indicated by a century-old map. The directions were pinging in his mind and he sat on a bench to recalibrate. People passed by with amicable conversation a plenty and he let himself listen to it all as he took his time eating.

 

When the Council was sent news of Loki's impending appearance, well. There was a definite flurry of activity. A person of such majesty hadn't been on Earth in a very long time, after all. Especially someone of such infamy. The office broke out into a hectic mess-- all departments started setting up ballots, voting systems. Secret nominations. Everything. This was in Holland and Oliver had been doing a lunch run when he and his pals all received the same beeping notification across their independent pagers about drama going down in HQ. A simple codex writer and archivist, Oliver was usually locked away in a room permeated by dust with very few light and helping the master Reader keep everything in precise order. A glorified librarian, but with more magic, and less children. It was a very small department made up of people who heard the news and laughed privately about the mess and trouble it would result in.

 

How Oliver's name was tossed in and selected at random was beyond anything. There were thousands employed within the Council in Holland alone, there had to have been more just in the neighboring countries. But there it was-- an employee from the archives who would become the Keeper of Loki.

 

When he gave his parents the news, they were ecstatic, horrified, and confused. His Father said 'well perhaps you'll finally meet a good Swedish girl' and his Mom agreed wholeheartedly. In her excitement, she began to go through her contact book and see if any potential daughters were available for dating (most were not.)

 

Moving was difficult because Oliver's tiny condo was the definition of clutter. Maybe not even tasteful clutter-- it was filled with books, coffee stained papers and napkins left around for when he would bring snacks to his couch as he perused over files. Thrift store paintings and vintage illustrations were in little frames all over the place. Gaudy gold candleholders with stumps of wax melted down to nearly their base. Decorative statement pieces in the form of "charming mannequins" who served as coat and umbrella holders. It was all bursting at the seams. Having to pack that up as neatly as possible and ship it with him miles and miles away was difficult. But he did it. The large apartment he'd been relocated to still seemed hopelessly empty to him. Even with all the books and charming mannequins. But it'd have to do! More space for papers and trinkets. Hopefully Loki wouldn't have to stay

 

His Swedish was rusty, English sometimes clumsy, but mostly alright, and German decent as well. His new apartment activated several latent allergies that were unexplainable but plagued him for the first two weeks. He had two friends who were both regular sort of folk but alright people. Getting around the city was still hard but he was learning. Had learned enough, at least, to make adequate stop requests on the tram or from drivers.

 

Now he had to handle a mischief-making deity… What a pain.

 

Hopefully Loki wouldn't have to stay with him for too long. Never the uncouth host, Oliver had made sure to put care and tender love into setting up a neat guest bedroom. But it was also his job to guide the other through life-- not let him mooch! And guiding an adult manchild meant kicking him out of your apartment so he could get his own. It would work out brilliantly. That's what he kept repeating in his head. It'd work out brilliantly.

 

Oliver joined the locals as he walked up and across streets, jogging to catch the last few seconds of a crosswalk, and navigating an unfortunate taxi with only sparse directions (but tipped him heavier, just as a thanks for putting up with his antics.)

 

The large clearing Loki was supposed to be zapped to was, in fact, a park. And the general area of summoning was by the biking trails, near the underbrush and general forestry. So making sure people glazed over a person zapping into mid-air was Oliver's first order of business. But after he'd placed all the runes right, it was just a waiting game.

[Gladis]

”LOKI!”

 

Odin’s deep voice rang out across the great hall. He was an elderly man, seated on a throne that looked like it had been carved into the trunk of a large tree, its branches melting into the walls and the roof. One pitch black raven was perched on his shoulder, another on his armrest. At his feet two large, gray wolves laid stretched out, resting their huge heads on their front paws.

 

He peered down at the small gathering that lined the walls, tone eyed and menacing, the murmur of discussion dying down almost immediately.

 

”Loki,” he repeated slowly, ”Show yourself.”

 

A woman stepped forward – tall as she was voluptuous. She wore a dress that more resembled stitched together laces than a proper attire, and that ugged her body in a most enticing manner, her hips swinging seductively as she moved with the grace and elegance of a cat. Her long hair had been done up beautifully, laying in braided curls around her head before falling down her back and shoulders in silky black waves. The warm light of the flickering flames danced across her pale skin, illuminating the golden hue of her eyes.

 

”You called for me, my sworn brother?” She answered, her voice sweet and venomous all the same. Like a snake hiding in a bush of roses.

 

Odin did not seem pleased. His lips were pressed together, forming a thin line, and he kept tapping his index finger on his armrest impatiently.

 

”Your real self!” He growled, in a voice that left no room for argument.

 

The woman scowled, but did not argue, beginning to change her form before the eyes of their spectators. Her skin blubber and stretched, her hair growing shorter and her lace’s widening to take on a more wholesome form. Before long the woman was gone, and in her place stood a man of equal beauty. His shoulder length black hair hung freely around his shoulders, and he was dressed in a fluttering, equally black robe. His full lips quirked into a cheeky smile.

 

”How can I be of service to you, my l-”

 

”SILENCE!” Odin roared, sending a great shiver through the hall. He rose from his grand seat, the raven on his shoulder hopping off his shoulder to settle on the other armrest, and the wolves moving aside as he took a step towards Loki.

 

”This morning my son Baldr was found dead, with an arrow buried in his chest.” A horrified gasp swooped through the crowd.

 

It seemed impossible, but somehow Loki appeared even paler than usual. He took a step back. ”Oh? Is that so? How terribly unfortunate. You have my condol-”

 

”An arrow, I hear, that you so graciously gifted to his blind brother,” the god thundered on, and every time he took a step towards Loki, the other seemed to shrink back somewhat, ”Do you know what this means?”

 

”Odin look, I’m sorry. I couldn’t possibly have known that gifting Hodr the arrow would end this badly. It was an accident. Please, you have to believe me. I didn’t mean-” his ramblings were cut short when a strong hand suddenly grabbed hold of his shoulder, stopping him in his attempt to get away from Odin. Loki glanced up and his heart nearly sank through the floor. The man was tall and well built, with hair and beard a deep, fiery red, and his eyes as intensely blue as the lightning he conjured. While he kept one hand firmly locked on Loki’s shoulder, his other was clasping a large and deadly looking hammer.

 

”Unhand me, Thor,” Loki ordered sourly, attempting to shake the younger man off. To no avail, it seemed, as he was roughly pushed down onto a chair.

 

”No. You sit and listen to what father has to tell you!” Thor rumbled.

 

It seemed like Loki would have no choice but to do exactly that, because the moment he connected with the chair, his legs started to feel like lead, and he found himself unable to move. He swirled around to glare at Odin, who had come to a halt only a small distance away, leaning on his wooden walking stick.

 

”This is not my fault! I didn’t do it! It is your sons that–”

 

”Shut up or I will have you gagged as well.”

 

”Kinky…”

 

Odin glared down at him and Loki’s mouth obediently fell shut. He reached out and grabbed hold of Loki’s chin, tilting his head up so that he was forced to gaze into that pale blue, all-knowing eye.

 

”It means,” he said, with deadly calm, ”that the first of several prophecies has come true. Ragnarok is upon us.”

 

The corners of Loki’s lips slowly curled into a mean spirited grin. ”So it does,” he agreed, and his earlier act of desperation had been replaced by something entirely different. Glee. Glee at the smell of fear filling the room, and the look of anger spreading across their faces. ”And you’re an old fool if you think that you can stop it.”

 

”YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Thor roared, raising his hammer high. ”I WILL KILL YOU!” However, he was stopped by Odin who shot him a warning glance.

 

”No, let him~" Loki mused before cackling, ”It’ll just make Ragnarok come all the faster!" It earned him several horrified and disgusted looks from the audience. The wolves growled, the raven’s shrieked and the assembled god’s broke out into a bewildered chatter. Oh, how amusing! How he was enjoying himself! It was all just as fun as he had imagined it would be!

 

”Oh, I have no illusions of stopping it,” Odin said, letting go of Loki’s jaw, ”but perhaps I can prolong it.” He leaned on his staff once more and sighed. ”On these grounds it has been decided that you will be exiled from Asgard.”

 

All colour seemed to drain from Loki’s features. ”Exiled?” He squaked, ”But where?” And there was genuine fear in his voice. They wouldn’t send him back home, would they? He couldn’t possibly deal with facing his brothers after all these years. Where would he even begin to explain… Loki swallowed hard.

 

”To Midgard.” Said Odin.

 

Loki let out a long breath of relief. ”Oh, that’s not so ba-”

 

”Where you will spend the rest of your days helping people.”

 

”WHAT?!” Loki exclaimed, seeming utterly horrified. ”Odin, darling, I know you’ve had a lot of crazy ideas, but this is completely insane! You can’t possibly expect me, ME, Loki the trickster, to run around as some kind of fairy godmother and grant people’s wishes!”

 

”If you ever hope to set foot in Asgard again, that is exactly what I expect from you.” Odin smiled down at him, with the kind of unfeeling coldness not even Loki could muster. ”Until you have performed no less than a thousand good deeds on earth, thereby showing us that you are willing to turn a new leaf and repent for your sins – you will not be allowed to set food in Asgard. Should you fail, you will be banished for all eternity. Have I made myself clear?”

 

Loki opened his mouth to protest, which Odin responded to by slamming his staff against the ground.

 

”HAVE I?!” He asked, his voice echoing through the chamber.

 

”... perfectly…” the small giant mumbled in defeat.

 

And so it came to pass that Loki was banished to earth.

 

His departure from Asgard had conveniently been scheduled on Midsummer’s Eve – that one weekend in June when the cities in Sweden become oddly empty, abandoned in favor of celebrating the holiday in the countryside. It had all been carefully planned out by the council. So whilst most of Stockholm’s population was busy getting drunk, eating fish with potatoes and pretending to be frogs in a weird dance around a phallus shaped, flower clad pole – Loki could be translocated into the heart of the city more or less unnoticed. It was absolutely brilliant!

 

He appeared in a cloud of rainbow coloured smoke, accompanied by that loud, clapping noise that usually follows a translocation. Luckily for them heavy rain clouds were hanging overhead – as they always tend to do on midsummer, and it could easily have been mistaken for actual thunder.

 

Loki coughed, squinting as he tried to make out his surroundings through the haze. He felt sick, and a little wobbly on his feet – two perfectly common side effects of long distance translocation, so it took him a moment to register his surroundings. Once the smoke had begun to clear, however, he realized that he stood on a field with exceptionally short grass. Trees were all around, and further up the slope he could spot what looked like three blue and copper tents made out of metal. Oh, and there was a man in strangely bright clothing as well.

 

”Well, aren’t you a cute one... The man that was supposed to meet me, I presume?” He asked as he dusted off his tightfitting black robes. His hair had been tied back into a neat ponytail, and for someone who was currently being punished, he looked fairly smart and healthy.

[brinary]

To think the gods would smile down at him and see his waiting form. Instead the day was prolonged with light pacing and constantly checking the sky. Oliver had always wondered about the time that's displaced between rocketing from Asgard to a location that was-- oh, there it was! His muscles were tightening to tense him for an impact that wasn't coming. It served as a sign for him that proceedings had started and his current task would be replaced with a whole new set of rules and complications.

 

Not every day one gets to meet a trickster god. Trickster demons, sure, and they were always annoying-- but the man who'd built a life and career on mischief making was wholly different! Smoothing his windbreaker down, the man licked his lips nervously then slapped himself across the cheek with a hard huff. "No nerves," he hissed fiercely. "No nerves, no weakness- professional amicability! You can do this, you can do this, you can do this..." He rocked back and forth from toe to hell while murmuring the statement to himself.

 

Slowly the clouds spread as air grew different in hue further down the slope. He could see something like condensing before the rainbow smoke was expelled into the area and the harsh noise of the procedure slammed into him. Oliver shook his head with a wince. Even with headphones on to prevent such a jarring noise, it still managed to rattle his bones. But there was no time to waste in retrieving the cargo, as it were. He sighed one more time and then made his way down the grassy hill's slope. One hand was lifted in a short greeting before returning to its owner's side to secure the bag slung over his shoulder.

 

Excitement had rushed through his system along with a fresh pack of nerves and his brain had to remind him that disasters usually befell him when he was too excited. After all, appearing to keen on meeting one of these deities could give the wrong impression. For all of the testimonies written of the mischief-maker, none described him as boorish or exceedingly crass in style, but a man of intelligence and wickedness.

 

The fax had described the situation which befell Odin's immediate intervention and Loki's punishment. A group had gathered to lay on the floor and send their deep and mournful condolences to the gods shortly thereafter. Throughout those proceedings, the office had a moment of silence for the years gone from the now-dead young man.

 

It was a long moment. A stipulation had been added that they could work while maintaining relatively depressed silence. Oliver was adept at depressed silence, as well as working while depressed, and sadly typed and indexed for the rest of that day. Knowing that Loki had such involvement in the death of someone with such a status wasn't surprising but it was something that he chewed on while the voting was being done. For all purposes, the young man suspended the majority of his scrutiny. There were very few among the gods and greater beings that were pure innocents.

 

"Good afternoon, ser," he greeted formally with a sharp nod. His hair was shaved close down to his head but was copper in color, similar to the shade of freckles that exploded over his neck whereas they only lightly dotted his cheeks in big, faint splotches. The windbreaker was huge on him and his pants similarly shapeless but his wrists were scrawny, with long fingers and knobby, bruised knuckles.

 

"I'm your official greeter, of course. Ah, welcome to Midgard. I hope your trip has been well to you." Of course it was alright the man fucking translocated you literal anus-- "My name's Oliver," he continued with a thin smile (it wasn't exactly thin, his lips were rather big.)

 

He bowed just slightly and felt like he should remain slightly inclined for the god, since he seemed to have at least two inches on him. "I'm to be your host for the duration of your stay. As your host, I take full responsibility over you learning the customs and systems here on Midgard, in the current location we are in, and will answer your questions with the best of my ability- within reason- with the understanding that my memory will allow certain information at a time, so if I forget, I have not gone against this verbal acknowledgement- which is happening now." Learning the script that he had to for interacting with Loki was beyond difficult.

 

He was, of course, a trickster. Anything that was said could and would be used against him in the future. So Oliver sat through planes and trains and moving truck storage reciting his personalized and custom speech. They'd made it as air-tight as possible.

 

With the final of his first speech done, he held out his hand for a shake, trying to resist the urge to sweat.

[Gladis]

When Loki had been told that he would be assigned a wizard guide, so to speak, he had not been entirely sure what to expect. The information he received had been vague at best, so most of it was left up to Loki’s imagination. Oliver, as he was called, was nothing like what he had imagined. The man was tall and scrawny – rather like a scarecrow, Loki decided, and he spoke with a peculiar accent. Still, Loki seemed far from displeased, the corners of his lips curling into an ever so cunning grin.

 

”I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Oliver,” he mused, taking the outstretched hand and giving it a suspiciously enthusiastic shake. Then he paused, as though he had come to a sudden realization. ”Oh! If you don’t mind-” Keeping a firm grip on Oliver’s hand past what anyone would have considered appropriate, he yanked him forwards, catching him in his arms as he took a step back. It was lucky that he did. Not even half a second later a large chest materialized in mid air, dropping onto the grass with a loud thump where Oliver had stood only a moment ago. It looked large and old but fancy enough, with intricate patterns and rune inscriptions – its metal coating gleaming in the sunlight that came poking through the clouds.

 

Loki huffed, thoughtlessly brushing Oliver aside as he headed over to the chest. He crouched down, inspecting it carefully, his dark eyebrows knitting into a displeased frown. Clicking his tongue, he nimbly rose to his feet and tilted his head up to glare at the sky.

 

”Hey, you big dumb buffoon!” He yelled, seemingly at nothing. ”Would it have killed you to treat my belongings with a little more care?!”

 

Loki received his response in the form of rolling thunder, sounding not entirely unlike rumbling laughter. The giant scoffed, grumbling something along the lines of ’I’ll show you for laughing at me, just you wait’ between gritted teeth. Then he turned to look at Oliver, folding his slender arms across his chest. Anger boiled beneath his glib smile.

 

”Please do show the way.” He said, not trying particularly hard to hide his impatience. ”I’d rather get this wish granting crusade over with as soon as possible. Don’t think for a second that I will stay here any longer than I have to.” Loki sniffed, gently patting the lid of his chest. In his mind, he added:

 

Thor needs to pay.

[brinary]

His smile was already making him nervous. The shake only heightened his ill-will, suspicious of a hand-shake befitting perhaps the other's sibling. Loki himself being so enthused was just plain odd. And very suspect. Oliver hid his thoughts with a shaky grin, responding with "Likewise," but it slowly lowered as time stretched on and their hands hung suspended in air. He grew fidgety then opened his mouth, inhaling hard before he was yanked forward. With an unceremonious and indignant yelp, he fell forward into Loki's awaiting embrace. It would have been a picture perfect movie moment if Loki wasn't Loki, and Oliver wasn't Oliver.

 

Whipping his head around to the pop of air that announced a summoning, he watched the heavy chest materialize and drop with glasses askew. He was still swimming with questions when the shorter man pushed him aside to approach his things. At least it gave him some time to gather his bearings- or what little he had. Brushing himself off, the man turned to watch the mini tirade Loki threw at the heavens. He was already incredibly exhausted. Gods were so much work, why did they insist always involving humans in their weird affairs? Many people considered doing deities a solid to be the highlight in a spiritual life. They just seemed like general... nuisances but not in a bad way they were just really hard to please sometimes!

 

He rushed the last string of thoughts in case it got him struck down by some overhearing party. Part of him thought it was ridiculous someone would listen to his thoughts but with the parents he had, a healthy amount of paranoia always occupied the front of his mind.

 

Once Loki had turned his way, Oliver had also turned to look at him. Anger was crackling around the dark-haired man; Oliver could feel it raising the hairs on his arms. "Yes, about that," he said slowly. Bending down, he gritted his teeth to heave the chest up, feeling winded by the weight but still somehow struggling up. He breathed out harshly.

 

"Follow me--" Huffing, he began to amble slowly up the the hill, constantly glancing back to make sure Loki was following. "There are-- things you have- do to- that are good-- not just-- not just wish- wish granting, but- good deeds like," once he got up to the road, he let the chest drop down with a loud exhale. Remaining bent over, he fanned himself. "Good deeds like helping the sick, helping the poor, not with little things, but their overall existence. Improving- ah, 'scuse me." He straightened up with a grimace and rubbed the heel of his hand into his back.

 

"It's about improving their general overall existence, soothing a struggle." Like, for instance, helping someone carry your giant chest up a hill. "We'll go over more examples at my abode. Hold on a second, they left... stuff around here," he muttered and began to jog along the street, digging around bushes and peering into trees. He'd gotten his hand halfway into a nearby bush when he made an 'oop' noise and coming back with a large, long parcel. He presented it to Loki. "Here's a change of clothes. I'll uh, I can turn away," Oliver fumbled. "They're all things that should fit you, trousers, a shirt, socks or hosiery, and some... Well there might not be any shoes but I suppose the ones you're wearing will be fine."

[Gladis]

Loki had never intended for Oliver to carry his chest up the hill, but watching humans struggle was positively amusing – a sight that quickly replaced his simmering anger with some form of dark glee. Hands folded behind his back, Loki’s expression was the picture of innocence as he followed along. Only barely pretending to listen to whatever explanation Oliver attempted to give him as he huffed and puffed about, he found his gaze once again wandering towards the peculiar copper tents. He wondered what purpose they served, and if not constructing it out of metal kind of defeated the purpose of a tent in the first place. Then he realized that Oliver was coming to a halt, nodding his head as though he had been listening attentively.

 

”Helping people, yes…” he paused, turning his head to look at Oliver, only to find him crouching amongst the trees and the bushes. His eyebrows shot up in a quizzical, not entirely unskeptical sort of way, and he was just about to inquire as to what in the name of Odin the other was doing when he returned, carrying a large parcel of sorts. Loki’s interest had been piqued.

 

”Oh, how thoughtful of you.” He remarked as he accepted the parcel, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. If he had come off as sarcastic, it wasn’t his intention. In fact, he seemed right pleased. Loki had always preferred to receive gifts over giving them, and had a history of accepting them with all the enthusiasm of a child at christmas. He knelt, setting it down on the grass as he waved his hand in dismissal of Oliver’s suggestion. ”No need – we are both men, are we not?” And then he added in a bit of a grumble, his hands busy at work with unwrapping the parcel. ”I swear, Christianity made you lot prudish beyond reason.” He picked up the neatly folded top piece of cloth, allowing it to unfold into a shirt as he raised it up, regarding it curiously.

 

”How strange… so this is what people wear these days? It doesn’t seem like it would be very practical in battle.”

 

Nevertheless, even Loki had to admit that they were quite comfortable once he had changed into them. Gathering his other clothes he walked over to the chest, muttering something under his breath. The lid sprung open, without any apparent help of its master, and after Loki had put them in, it swung back shut. Then he patted the lid, and as though it was the most natural thing in the world, the chest heaved itself from the ground, swaying a little back and forth. As Loki walked, the chest faithfully followed at his heels, waddling on its four, stubby little legs.

 

”There, that’s better.” He said, turning to Oliver. ”Now then – shall we go?”

[brinary]

If conversations were based on a pass or fail test right after, Loki would have surely failed. Oliver didn't know how he felt knowing that. Being ignored was irritating but pretending to listen showed there was some dismissive, 'yes yes and so whatever' surrounding the situation as a whole that just didn't make him feel right. On one end, perhaps it was a marker of more effort made by the respondent. On another hand, it could also mean that Oliver was predictable and boring and not worth listening to. Either way, he was feeling rather ill-willed when he handed Loki the parcel. It increased at the man's supposed pleasure and light ribbing. It was only further enhanced by seeing that Loki looked very nice in modern clothes.

 

They were all very simple, as the man had stated, but transformed into a cultivated casual outfit when worn by someone as annoying as Loki. The trickster was a dick without even trying. How effortless.

 

Oliver hadn't turned around, just for the sake of proving to Loki that he was, in fact, not prudish, but averted his eyes when the other had straightened. "Battles don't happen very commonly here, not battles as you remember them," he spoke. His eyes only came back at the sound of the trunk's lid snapping shut. Then the thing sprouted legs and began following the god like a faithful, servantile dog.

 

The expression Oliver gave Loki was barren, his gaze already communicating so much with the accompanying neutral line that hid mouth had taken on. With a slow sigh, he rubbed at a spot between his brows where he was sure a tumor shaped like a particular halfling was taking form. "No magicks allowed unless it's for service of others," he finally said and raised his hand to cast a disenchantment on the chest. "It was expressed in the contract. We'll go over that, too, when we return to my home." The entire business repeated-- he strained, heaved, and huffed before continuing to slowly walk with the lack-haired man down the street.

 

There was a bus stop just down the way. It'd take about ten minutes to wait but at the pace he was going, by the time they got to the stop, he was sure there'd only be about a two minute period of resting before their driver would arrive. He really wish he'd been given a longer or larger pension to accommodate the annoying man. "Did anyone" wheeze "go over" wheeze, pant "some of- wow," sharp exhale, readjustment, continuation "some of the terms at all, or are you totally in the dark?"

[Gladis]

No battles? Loki wasn’t quite sure whether Oliver’s statement was supposed to make him feel relief or disappointment, his eyebrows coming together in a thoughtful frown.

 

”Then how do people solve their petty arguments?”

 

Back in his days, when the norse gods still inhabited the realm of scandinavian spirituality, an unwisely uttered insult could cost an arm or a leg. It was a fair trade, thought Loki. Especially if you are capable of magically growing your limbs back. This wasn’t exactly something that had ever applied to most humans, but then, Loki was rarely one to think of others.

 

Perhaps that was part of the reason he had believed that he would be allowed to use his magic as he always had – no questions asked. To learn that he in fact couldn’t, according to an agreement he had never heard of, came as an utmost disappointment. The sour look on his face revealed as much. For a moment he considered uttering a spell that would make Oliver trip over his own feet, but then he remembered the warning he had been given. He was to listen to his wizard guide – if the man reported back and it turned out that Loki had misbehaved terribly, his punishment would be extended. He didn’t think he could bare that, so watching Oliver struggle with his chest to the bus stop – which to Loki just looked like a strange construction of glass by a very peculiar gray road, would have to suffice.

 

He let out a long, dramatic sigh, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against the glassy outer wall of the bus stop.

 

”Darling, no one on Asgard ever tells me anything. Not unless they’re mad at me, need my help or in Odin’s case – want somebody to fuck.”

 

Though his scowl had smoothed out into a slight, somewhat crooked smile, there was an obvious note of resentment and bitterness in his voice. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely unjustified, either. Loki was often taken for granted, and due to his heritage had frequently been made the butt of the Asgardians jokes. Sometimes it seemed to him like the only reason some of them tolerated his presence was because he was the sworn ’brother’ of Odin. The fragile bond of friendship he had once shared with Thor seemed to have been shattered by Loki’s apparent involvement in Baldr’s death. Now it seemed that he had gotten all of Asgard to hate him – except for perhaps Odin, who Loki was convinced had been the only reason he was still alive.

 

”So no, I don’t know the terms of your contract. Although... it seems a pity not to use magic. I could have made the chest lighter for you, if you’d let me.”

[brinary]

"Oh." He paused, not wanting to admit he didn't really know the answer to that question. Instead, he settled on a blanketing, "Different ways, depending on the argument." It wasn't exactly a lie. It was an incredible truth, even. Oliver was proud of how amazingly he did with that pop-quiz.

 

Explaining the intricacies of texting versus fist fights versus full-out assault cases-- shit, even the laws! He would have to cover the laws. The pamphlet was printed out in preparation for today. That was going to be a day at least. What an ordeal. If Loki's reaction to even one rule was anything to go by, 'ordeal' perhaps couldn't cover how horrid the situation would be.

 

Oliver sat down on the bench to get his bearings and looked askance towards the god. Asgard seemed so weird. Everyone always exclaimed about how amazing it would have been- how amazing it was- but for some reason, he just couldn't see it. Everyone was too weird. Jumped too many conclusions. Frowning at Loki's bluntness, the wizard ran a hand down his face to get sweat off his face. "It was fine. I need the exercise." He idly played with his windbreaker before taking the brightly colored thing off. Rain had decided to hold off for now so he could relax in his t-shirt. It was washed out looking but soft, contrasting to the crinkly noise of his jacket. "We have a lot to go through," he began, tying the outer layer around his waist.

 

"For this situation, I am required to tell you basic things first. Like, we're at a bus stop. The bus is a transportation agent that comes in the form of a large, motorized machine, driven by a singular person. We're going to get on the bus. I have money to pay for our seats. And we'll travel to our destination in a peaceful manner." A by-the-book explanation recited by a tired looking man. He was flexing his fingers with his eyes trained on a point in the distance. Should be anytime now...

 

"You're not allowed to mess around with anything unless it's absolutely required. I shouldn't have to tell you what's deemed good and bad to do, or what's charitable or not... But I'm probably going to." Looking at the man with his arms crossed so stiffly, he frowned. "You're brooding," he observed blandly before sighing. What did people do when other people were sad? Oh right.

 

Feed them.

 

"Do you want any food or drinks when we get back to my home? It'll be a particularly overcast day and I'm positive some rain will come rushing down later in the evening. Getting something warm in you will ground you to the physical plane and also probably ensure you proper nutrition. I don't know... if deities have nutritional concerns-- bus is here!" Oliver heard it from a distance and stood up, quickly fumbling for his wallet, a lump in his tied up windbreaker. Throughout all his careful memorization and preparation for this day, he did not foresee the issue that might arise. Like how to present your bus card and money when your wallet is now balanced on top of the heavy trunk you're struggling to carry.

 

Better now than ever. "Could you please open this wallet, on top of your trunk, and just hold it open to the driver once we climb the steps, after the doors open? I can't quite reach it." The First Task.