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crystal ⚔ action ⚔ correspondence

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[apocalypsegrown]

[ She’s not sure how to feel about that second part at all though, and it throws her from being slightly impressed at his actual hedonism to more complicated emotions.

Still.

She has no frame of reference to stage that word upon. Nor the word important really.

For her important has only been used in that way once in her life. And he doesn’t even know what she—

So instead of answering she changes the topic. ]

I didn't bring a towel.

[icasm]

[ She changes the topic so strongly in that moment that he has to take a breath, which comes out as a chuckle in the next moment. ]

I live here.

There are towels. You can use them. Do you need clothes too?

[ An honest question. ]

[apocalypsegrown]

Only if yours are more comfy.

[ Yes. That’s better. That he follows along let’s her breathe a little easier. ]

Otherwise I picked some up in Val Chevin.

[ A pause. Might as well make a thing of it. ]

A robe would be nice.

[icasm]

Well. [ Can she hear the way his brain is turning that over? He'd said it purely on jest but now...]

I'll let you be the judge of that.

[ He has SOME comfy clothes. Mage robes. Sweaters. Soft pants, things like that. Things for days when he's alone and goes nowhere. ]

A robe, then. What else did you pick up in Val Chevin?

[apocalypsegrown]

Quite a bit actually. I recommend going to war right after being tossed into a new world; helps you build up supplies.

[ After all, it’s not like those trinkets and clothes would be missed. When he sees her he’ll probably notice how much more she blends in, even though the layers of black fabric and (now tailored) black pants are reminiscent of her old look. Instead of her high necked armor though she wears a delicately constructed white shirt with sleeves that vanish into heavier leather arm guards and fingerless gloves, swirled details edged into all of it. Similar but different enough for someone who’s been wearing the same thing pretty much for centuries. ]

[icasm]

I'll keep that in mind for next time, if there is one.

[ She's probably better than he is at that sort of thing, he realizes. Getting what she needs out of unfortunate circumstances, whereas Loki is used to throwing money and power and magic at a problem until it buckles for him or becomes something useful.

Sylvie is a little more 'apply brute force directly' in dealing with her problems.

Loki makes his way through Hightown and towards the docks. He could have taken a carriage out, but he figured the time it will take the ferry is roughly the time it will take him to stride across town. ]

Have you eaten?

[ Bother, bother. ]

[apocalypsegrown]

Are you offering?

[ Meals at the Gallows are...basic. She misses MSG and canned food. ]

[icasm]

Yes. Though I daresay I wouldn't be able to find or replicate anything familiar from, say, Roxxmart.

But a meal, I could manage to procure.

[ Not cook, mind. He doesn't know how to do that. ]

[apocalypsegrown]

Ugh, don't even say that name. I may die from longing.

[ She really does miss it, realizes now how important that little get away was to her. Also the food court. ]

I will take you up on a meal after the bath. My muscles are more needy than my stomach.

[ She could also do both at once, but she's sure his tastes are more complicated than that of the gallow's galley food, and probably more expensive than anything she could afford. She'd rather take advantage. ]

[icasm]

[ Remember how we first met and you tried to strangle me with a vacuum? Good times— things Loki thinks but will not be saying aloud today.

Instead he just kind of chuckles on the magical line and wonders what her favorite apocalypse was but there's no comfortable or good way to ask that question so it also gets set aside. ]

You could eat in the bath, you know. [ Okay that solves it, he's at least going to grab some pastries before he meets her at the ferry. ]

[apocalypsegrown]

But I'll be soapy.

[ It's a joke, but also one that she knows is evocative. But she can't help it. There's just a line that is begging to be toed. ]

You'd have to feed me in that case.

[ Or they could eat in the carriage she supposes. ]

[icasm]

Ah right, you'll be soapy. [ Ahem. ] How terrible.

[ She might be toeing a line; in his mind, it's getting obliterated in the sand by the tide coming in. His fantasies about her, nudity, soap bubbles, and eventually wearing his clothes just about skyrocketed just now.

The swallow it takes for him to pull himself together from that is audible. ]

I think I'm up to that task.

[apocalypsegrown]

Are you certain? I wouldn't want to put too much on your shoulders.

[ She can hear it, the way his brain almost shuts down, and she tucks her knees up a little more in her sheltered bend on the ferry, trying not to laugh audibly. It's hard not to fall into this rhythm with him-- teasing and banter and poking. Knowing that what is between them is more than just... friendship... but at the same time.

She tries not to sober herself too much with memories of the citadel, tries to push it out of her mind. She would tell him eventually. ]

[icasm]

[ Don't think of her legs on your shoulders, don't...

Too late.

Loki pinches the bridge of his nose. ]

I've gotten to host precious few since arriving; it's not too much, I promise.

[ Ah, a bakery. Let's see if he can manage to have this conversation, breathe, and order food items at the same time. ]

Besides what sort of person would I be if I couldn't meet the needs of friends?

[apocalypsegrown]

[ She can hear distant activity around him now, and she presses her lips together. ]

I wouldn't know. [ He's the only friend she's had after all. ] I'll see you at the docks yeah? Let me know when you're there.

[icasm]

[ Hm. A slight tonal shift has him worrying he said the wrong thing, but there's little to be done for it now. ]

You will, and I will. [ A pause. He is loathe to hang up despite knowing he'll see her soon. ] Do you like raisins?

[apocalypsegrown]

[ It's not you Loki, she's just...complicated. That does make her smile, a tight little thing that barely sticks around, though.]

Mmm. Could take them or leave them.

[icasm]

Mobius said something strange to me, once, about raisins and candy. When I arrived here I asked about candy and there are... unquantifiable combinations available.

[ He'd honestly gotten a little overwhelmed at the amount of choices and still hasn't looked into it again. ]

What's your favorite fruit then?

[apocalypsegrown]

Gods have you really not had candy before?

[ That is a mind blowing concept. For once she actually feels that he’s missed out on something she’s taken for granted. Or well, the second time actually. ]

Thedas does Have chocolate doesn’t it? Get that with whatever fruit they have. I’m not picky.

[icasm]

Isn't candy usually dried fruits?

They do; the Orlesians in particular are fond of chocolate. [ That doesn't mean Kirkwall doesn't have it; this bakery he's in even has a selection of fruits and chocolates, in pastries and without, but it's something he's noticed traveling around a little in this world. ]

Alright. How long until the ferry lands? I'm only a short distance away right now.

[apocalypsegrown]

The fact that you ask that question deeply depresses me.

[ If she had the option she'd take him to the candy isle in roxxcart and just feed him until he explodes. She's desperately fond of candies of all types and if she had the funds she'd carry some on her here as well. ]

Let me check.

[ Sylvie untangles herself from her little warm notch, her body complaining and protesting every moment and he might hear the little pained grunt as she gets to her feet, and the hitch in her step still as she makes her way to the front of the ferry. She can see land rapidly approaching, the crisp cold wind whipping her hair in spirals and burning her lungs. ]

Not long now. Maybe a few minutes. I'll wait for you on the docks.

[icasm]

[ He doesn't quite know what to say to that. ]

You have spent more time with Midgardians and enmeshed in their culture and products than I have.

[ So it makes sense, right, that she'd know more about candy than he would. Right?

There's muffled conversation on his end, with Loki buying... entirely too many sweets, and a few savory pastries just for some false sense of balance. What? He knows what he's about. ]

Alright. I'll be there soon.

[apocalypsegrown]

[ She smiles a little to herself, finding another little space to hide away from the cold until the boat docks. She shuffles out with all the other passengers, and finds a post to sit on that's shaded amongst the multicolored fishing pots that tower near where the pier meets the actual street. The wind only ruffles her here, and she tucks her legs up, closing her eyes and just for a moment...exists.

It's not something she's gotten to do...like ever. There's no timelines here, no constant checking of how long she had left, no running every minute of every day. No being hunted. Just the smell of the sea, the fish being unloaded from boats, the chimneys full of wood and coal... It was actually peaceful. ]

[icasm]

[ Loki has a bag full of sweets and pastries that he carries carefully as he makes his way to the docks. The ferry has deposited its passengers and left them behind, picking up new ones to head towards the Gallows; he watches the boat for a moment before he starts scanning around to find Sylvie.

He doesn't spot her at first and the panic that seizes his chest is unique in its horribleness.

So he stands there, takes a breath, and tries again. Closing his eyes helps. Remembering that she's got no reason to lie to him, and relatively few enemies thus far also helps. He opens his eyes and tries again, looking for places that are easily defensible and could protect Sylvie on more than one side at a time.

It takes him a few minutes of careful poking around but he does find her, watching her with her eyes closed. It reminds him of the train on Lamentis, before it all went to shit; watching her sleep as he drank across from her. Eventually, he clears his throat carefully (and none too loudly). ]

Hey.

[apocalypsegrown]

[ She hears him approach before he speaks, the unique staccato of his stride. The smell of him on the wind, rich shampoo and something unique, even in this human form. So when he does speak she pretends not to hear him a moment, before opening one eye and peering at him sideways with a small grin. ]

Took you long enough.