[ 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. ]
[ 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). ]
[ 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. ]
[ He's definitely gotten the feeling that she knows he's there long before he clears his throat due to hyperawareness perhaps, but, well. Politeness, or something.
He smirks at her peering, raising the bag. ]
Would you like a chocolate and raspberry puffy pastry thing?
[ It has a name, in Orlesian. He didn't bother trying to keep track, he just bought what looked good (which was a lot of things). ]
[ She kicks her legs out straight from where they were tucked under her, sliding off the post with a grace that would be there if she wasn't still recovering. Instead when her feet hit the ground it shocks pain up her leg and she stumbles, biting back a small sound of discomfort. ]
[ The expression that chases across his face is an equal mixture of fear and worry; he knows he's not doing excellent himself, after the whole fight in Val Chevin (his nose still is tender and the bruising is quite extensive elsewhere) and Loki steps forward, reaching out a hand to help steady her.
He bites back whatever he wants to say. Careful, maybe or you should have rang sooner. Instead, he stands there, with one hand out near her elbow, looking worried. ]
Come on. [ He shifts his open hand to an arm she can take if she'd like. Ever the princeling. ] Let's get a carriage.
[ It's said teasing, but in truth the arm is...helpful. Usually she could just take it easy a few days and feel fine after, but now... once the andrenline of that whole mess had worn off she had felt worse than she had in a long time. And the feeling stuck, every motion and pull of her muscles screaming and her injuries still swollen and red. She'd be fine, but this body certainly was so much more fragile than she could tolerate.
As such after a breath, she slips her arm inside his, fingers curling into the thick fabric of his sleeve, and lets him give her a bit of stability. ]
[ He's glad that she takes his arm while simultaneously being concerned that her injuries are more extensive than she's been given to admitting prior to this moment. Not that he's a healer capable of much, but he can and will worry about her.
At least there are healing items for the bath back at the apartment. Things he's picked up in the last few days, mostly for himself, but he'll happily share every treatment he finds with her (within reason and balanced out for gross factors).
Still. She holds on to the crook of his arm and he pats the back of her hand, smiling. He doesn't walk too fast either as they make their way to the row of waiting carriages near the docks, mindful of the fact that his stride is much longer than hers.
He keeps his hand on top of Sylvie's until it's time to help her into the carriage, which he does by holding out his hand for her to use as an assistant to the step-up she has to take. He gives the driver the address and climbs in after her, opening the bag and handing her a pastry. The promised chocolate and raspberry. ]
[ She's fine in the way she's always been fine, and in that she did not lie back in Triage. She's never had anyone to nurse her to health or to tend to her wounds, and honestly even this gentleness is uncomfortable and strange to her. The way he paces himself, the hand over hers, like she's something that can break. The way he offers her a hand that she doesn't take, opting instead to grasp the handle at the door with her uninjured hand and haul herself up, plopping into the stiff material and thin padding of the carriage seat.
There's only so much gentleness she can handle really.
She will however take that pastry with a slightly pressed grin, one that just lifts the outside of her lips a moment before she tucks her knees back up and the carriage begins to move. She tears off a corner and pops it in her mouth, looking out the window at Kirkwall as it passes by. ]
Of all the worlds we could have fallen into, it had to be the one without modern technology.
[ He watches her eat, not at all phased by the rejection of his help when it came. Of course, she wouldn't be comfortable with that kind of thing for too long; at which point would she have grown used to someone helping her? During which disaster, apocalypse, in which no one remembered Sylvie at all? Part of him, altogether not a quiet part, hopes that she'll learn with him though.
He just has to be patient. Right?
Hopefully.
Loki is still watching when she speaks and he blinks before snorting through his nose and shaking his head. ]
What I wouldn't give for some way of playing music for others that doesn't involve feeding the entire ensemble who've come to play it. Or teaching them the music to begin with. Plus a damned train would be useful, here.
[ There's a slight tilt in her head even though she doesn't look at him right away, as if considering something, and then she shifts fully to face him, tucking her legs up the opposite direction as she loops her arms over the back of the seat and rest her chin upon her linked hands. ]
You are just full of questions. Still trying to get that tactical advantage?
No, [ he admits, shaking his head once. There's no desire for tactical advantage, no need to know more than she does, just... a desire to know her, and to understand, and to listen to her talk.
He besotted he knows. If Thor were here there'd be no end to the grins and the ribbing until the point his brother realized just how dangerous they could be together and then...
Ugh. Gods. He misses his brother, fine, but that is not the important part of any of this right now. ]
[ She gives him a knowing look, trying to push back that smile that his 'no' pulls out of her. He really is just so earnest. ]
I miss having all of time and space at my fingertips.
[ If she's honest. ]
But yes, music as well. It's so quiet in The Gallows. If I still could harness my magic I wonder if we could pull some of our memories and charm something to sing, like some of the gadgets I found in Val Chevin.
[ She gives him that look and he glances away, briefly, looking back towards her again as she continues to speak. He feels bad, a little, that she's stuck here instead of cavorting off through space and time. Enjoying herself. Part of that is his fault, maybe?
Maybe not? He's so unclear as to what happened last for her before she arrived in Thedas that it's difficult to determine where blame would fall if there was any blame to be had. ]
Mhm. I found a music box in Val Chevin, enchanted to play an entire orchestra when the box was opened. Not so quietly, actually. [ Loki shakes his head a little. It had startled the hell out of him at the time but he kept the box when no one else claimed it. Sure, it had a trapped spirit inside of it, but the spirit didn't seem to mind. ] Something like that would probably work.
[ It's fascinating to watch her become animated about something; Loki's eyes track the variations in her expression until his own eyebrows raise at her suggestion. ]
Through your enchantment? [ He blinks, considering, trying to remember what it felt like to have her in his head. ] I'd be willing to try it.
[ She licks her lips, shifting a little in her seat as she prepares to explain. ]
You haven't experienced this yet but...when we were in the void- I wasn't able to enchant this creature that prevented us from moving forward. I was able to show you how to enchant--or well-- helped you helped me enchant, through touch.
[ And she does touch him then, dropping her hand from the cushioned headrest to featherlight brush her fingers over his, before sliding in to interlace with his own. Her thumb lightly runs over the outside of his palm, eyes holding his. ]
I held your hand and it was like we were one of one being, one magic.
[ Sylvie really shouldn't be allowed to lick her lips, touch his hand, and say things like that in the confines of this carriage; Loki's mind immediately goes straight to bed, do not pass go, but probably collect $200 anyway. ]
Ah.
[ So it takes him a moment for the part of his brain that is minding what she's saying to fight with the rest of his brain currently overwrought with desire in order to squeeze some semblance of sense-making out of him. Because ah does not communicate much, even he's aware of that.
But she is holding his hand, and Loki is gentle in his hold in return, taking breaths of variable steadiness. ]
So you think... I could teach you to access your magic through the Fade, like this? [ He squeezes her hand and smirks a little, unable to help himself. ] I could think of less convoluted ways to become 'one being', you know.
[ Still. He doesn't want her to think he isn't taking this seriously, so he closes his eyes and tries to focus on magic. On the feeling of pulling it from the Fade instead of through himself, from his Æsir. It helps if he thinks of it like a living blanket, full of warm pockets of magic he just has to reach towards in order to bring anything forth.
The corners of the interior of the carriage begin to illuminate with soft green light before illusions of flowers that Loki has seen on rare occasions fill the area. ]
[ He really is just so sensitive, and it's honestly endearing. The way that his head completely empties the moment she touches him, the slackness to his mouth, and it's very easy to see where his mind goes.
It makes her warm in ways that weren't just related to the heat coming from his hand. His dirty joke makes her laugh once, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly despite her smile. ]
I do think so.
[ She's about to say And that could come later when he closes his eyes, and she can feel the pull of magic through their entwined fingers. Flowers fill the inside of the carriage and she laughs softly, once, just at the beauty of it and the trust that it shows. That he'll go on her hunch without question and so immediately.
It's probably a good thing his eyes are closed, because the way she looks at him then betrays exactly how deeply she feels for him.
Rather than say anything though she just shifts closer, placing her other hand over their intertwined ones, leaning forward as if both are in prayer as she closes her eyes and focuses as well. Focuses on that connection, the way the magic flows from him to her and back. The different flavor of it, vibrating at a different note, but just as sweet sounding.
It's easier for her since she had felt it before, the way to line up their seiðr so that it crackles like a live wire between them. It's more difficult because she's the empty one this time, needing to be filled, and she leans forward even more as she reaches for it, their foreheads bumping together.
There- right-- She touches the flow of it, and there's a soft intake of breath as it floods her as well. ]
[ It's a good thing that she's familiar with what they're doing because Loki thinks he could just as easily get entirely lost in this. This feeling like something within him was just doubled on itself, as though a thin gold line of power that runs through his soul found another that was almost exactly the same and wrapped itself around, entangled with it.
Loki is aware of her hands on his, her forehead against his own, the closeness of her lips, the warmth of her breath across his face. He's aware of the magic of the Fade running through both of them, inhales, exhales, pulls it closer. Warm and weird and shimmering but not wholly unfamiliar, not after six months of desperately trying to regain all his lost magic. The Fade feels... not alive, not exactly, but responsive to what they're doing. Aware.
He doesn't know the words for it, the alignment that Sylvie manages, the internal click of the moment when it seems as though the dam breaks. But he feels it, much like he both hears and feels her small breath in as it happens.
The light of the flowers inside the carriage increases, brightening at the periphery of his shut eyes, so he opens them just to find Sylvie there, eyes still shut, foreheads still touching albeit only ever so slightly. Loki tilts his head down a bit, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. It's a request for permission, though not aloud; anyone else and he probably would have just gone through with kissing them, but...
[ She almost lets it happen too, that thrum of magic so utterly intoxicating after weeks now without even a whisper of it. It makes her heart beat hard in her chest, only to feel it stutter when he moves and she can taste the sweetness of those pastries on his breath, his nose brushing hers. Sylvie tilts her chin up, her lips brushing his ever so softly, the contact electric.
Before they can go much further though the carriage hits a bump and their foreheads clonk together painfully as they're jostled completely to one side. That connection is broken as she's tossed almost into his lap, one hand pressing to her face as she squawks in pain and annoyance. ]
[ The problem with having a recently broken nose is that the moment there's any force applied to the tissues that are already swollen and repairing it hurts like a bitch. Which means that Loki's hands go two places; one, to settle at Sylvie's waist so that she doesn't tumble any further, and the second to his nose, which hurts so bad he just tilts his head back while cursing under his breath, bag of pastries now in the place where Sylvie was sitting.
There an apology yelled their way from the driver of the carriage, which Loki ignores in favor of suddenly laughing. The magic dissipated in a shower of green and gold sparks, the last fragments of which still cling to the inner corners of the carriage car, but he felt it, and it was... ]
That was fucking amazing, [ he tells her once the pain in his face has subsided to a point that he can actually speak without wanting to shriek. ] Not the falling part but the rest of it. [ It doesn't dismay him that she's currently in his lap, but he's willing to bet she won't stay there for long; before he can think about it for too long, though, his face begins to throb again. ] Ach, [ he tilts his head upwards. ] Why are humans so fucking breakable?
[ His reaction to having his nose bumped distracts her from everything else, even the way she's half sprawled in his lap, one of his hands on her waist. Sylvie just shifts, knees on either side of his hips as she just barely doesn't touch his face, wincing at his pain as if she could feel it through that now broken connection. ]
Are you alright--
[ And then he starts laughing and the magic pops into a million sparks of gold and green and the relief she feels that he's clearly ok makes her join in; a smattering of quiet chuckles that fade when he winces again and tilts back his head. She carefully smooths his hair back, pulling a face that's half amused, half concerned, her heart still flitting in her chest from the touch of magic...and his lips. ]
They do everything intensely and quickly, pain, life, and feeling. Quite annoying.
Their art is amazing, though, which I suppose is for likely the same reason. If you only have a handful of decades with which to leave a mark on the world you're in...
[ Her laughter was beautiful, he thinks, eyes going fond as she cards fingers through his hair. That kiss, as brief as it was? Also beautiful. Magical, even, and he smiles at the thought.
Sylvie hasn't stirred from his lap like he'd expected her to and he feels like it is too much to hope she'll remain, and yet. His hand is not moving until she does. Loki's breath comes out in soft pants, breathing through his mouth since his nose is still so sore. ]
It is very annoying, though.
[ He glances past her towards the window. They're almost at the lift for carriages to bypass the impossible stairs in Kirkwall's Hightown. ]
[ You are incredibly endearing yourself Loki, is what she wants to say, my favorite work of art. His hand is so hot through her clothing, and for a minute she just watches the way his lips part and move as he breathes through the pain.
Then he's looking out the window and talking and she probably should move- Lest she embarrass him socially somehow- and bites her bottom lip as she slides backwards across the bench back to her side. She almost sits on the bag of pastries, turning and tucking the back onto her lap instead. ]
So tell me, Mister full-of-questions, what is your favorite part of this world.
[ She reaches into the bag of pastries and pulls one at random, holding it out for him. ]
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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. ]
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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.
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Took you long enough.
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He smirks at her peering, raising the bag. ]
Would you like a chocolate and raspberry puffy pastry thing?
[ It has a name, in Orlesian. He didn't bother trying to keep track, he just bought what looked good (which was a lot of things). ]
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[ She kicks her legs out straight from where they were tucked under her, sliding off the post with a grace that would be there if she wasn't still recovering. Instead when her feet hit the ground it shocks pain up her leg and she stumbles, biting back a small sound of discomfort. ]
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He bites back whatever he wants to say. Careful, maybe or you should have rang sooner. Instead, he stands there, with one hand out near her elbow, looking worried. ]
Come on. [ He shifts his open hand to an arm she can take if she'd like. Ever the princeling. ] Let's get a carriage.
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[ It's said teasing, but in truth the arm is...helpful. Usually she could just take it easy a few days and feel fine after, but now... once the andrenline of that whole mess had worn off she had felt worse than she had in a long time. And the feeling stuck, every motion and pull of her muscles screaming and her injuries still swollen and red. She'd be fine, but this body certainly was so much more fragile than she could tolerate.
As such after a breath, she slips her arm inside his, fingers curling into the thick fabric of his sleeve, and lets him give her a bit of stability. ]
I'll take that pastry once we're inside.
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[ He's glad that she takes his arm while simultaneously being concerned that her injuries are more extensive than she's been given to admitting prior to this moment. Not that he's a healer capable of much, but he can and will worry about her.
At least there are healing items for the bath back at the apartment. Things he's picked up in the last few days, mostly for himself, but he'll happily share every treatment he finds with her (within reason and balanced out for gross factors).
Still. She holds on to the crook of his arm and he pats the back of her hand, smiling. He doesn't walk too fast either as they make their way to the row of waiting carriages near the docks, mindful of the fact that his stride is much longer than hers.
He keeps his hand on top of Sylvie's until it's time to help her into the carriage, which he does by holding out his hand for her to use as an assistant to the step-up she has to take. He gives the driver the address and climbs in after her, opening the bag and handing her a pastry. The promised chocolate and raspberry. ]
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There's only so much gentleness she can handle really.
She will however take that pastry with a slightly pressed grin, one that just lifts the outside of her lips a moment before she tucks her knees back up and the carriage begins to move. She tears off a corner and pops it in her mouth, looking out the window at Kirkwall as it passes by. ]
Of all the worlds we could have fallen into, it had to be the one without modern technology.
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He just has to be patient. Right?
Hopefully.
Loki is still watching when she speaks and he blinks before snorting through his nose and shaking his head. ]
What I wouldn't give for some way of playing music for others that doesn't involve feeding the entire ensemble who've come to play it. Or teaching them the music to begin with. Plus a damned train would be useful, here.
What do you miss the most?
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You are just full of questions. Still trying to get that tactical advantage?
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He besotted he knows. If Thor were here there'd be no end to the grins and the ribbing until the point his brother realized just how dangerous they could be together and then...
Ugh. Gods. He misses his brother, fine, but that is not the important part of any of this right now. ]
Just curious, I suppose.
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I miss having all of time and space at my fingertips.
[ If she's honest. ]
But yes, music as well. It's so quiet in The Gallows. If I still could harness my magic I wonder if we could pull some of our memories and charm something to sing, like some of the gadgets I found in Val Chevin.
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Maybe not? He's so unclear as to what happened last for her before she arrived in Thedas that it's difficult to determine where blame would fall if there was any blame to be had. ]
Mhm. I found a music box in Val Chevin, enchanted to play an entire orchestra when the box was opened. Not so quietly, actually. [ Loki shakes his head a little. It had startled the hell out of him at the time but he kept the box when no one else claimed it. Sure, it had a trapped spirit inside of it, but the spirit didn't seem to mind. ] Something like that would probably work.
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I'd like to see it. I'm sure there's some kind of trick that we can reproduce other than trapping anything inside.
[ And that brings up another point. ]
You said you have access to your magic, I've been thinking... maybe you could show me how you access it through the fade.
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[ It's fascinating to watch her become animated about something; Loki's eyes track the variations in her expression until his own eyebrows raise at her suggestion. ]
Through your enchantment? [ He blinks, considering, trying to remember what it felt like to have her in his head. ] I'd be willing to try it.
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[ She licks her lips, shifting a little in her seat as she prepares to explain. ]
You haven't experienced this yet but...when we were in the void- I wasn't able to enchant this creature that prevented us from moving forward. I was able to show you how to enchant--or well-- helped you helped me enchant, through touch.
[ And she does touch him then, dropping her hand from the cushioned headrest to featherlight brush her fingers over his, before sliding in to interlace with his own. Her thumb lightly runs over the outside of his palm, eyes holding his. ]
I held your hand and it was like we were one of one being, one magic.
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Ah.
[ So it takes him a moment for the part of his brain that is minding what she's saying to fight with the rest of his brain currently overwrought with desire in order to squeeze some semblance of sense-making out of him. Because ah does not communicate much, even he's aware of that.
But she is holding his hand, and Loki is gentle in his hold in return, taking breaths of variable steadiness. ]
So you think... I could teach you to access your magic through the Fade, like this? [ He squeezes her hand and smirks a little, unable to help himself. ] I could think of less convoluted ways to become 'one being', you know.
[ Still. He doesn't want her to think he isn't taking this seriously, so he closes his eyes and tries to focus on magic. On the feeling of pulling it from the Fade instead of through himself, from his Æsir. It helps if he thinks of it like a living blanket, full of warm pockets of magic he just has to reach towards in order to bring anything forth.
The corners of the interior of the carriage begin to illuminate with soft green light before illusions of flowers that Loki has seen on rare occasions fill the area. ]
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It makes her warm in ways that weren't just related to the heat coming from his hand. His dirty joke makes her laugh once, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly despite her smile. ]
I do think so.
[ She's about to say And that could come later when he closes his eyes, and she can feel the pull of magic through their entwined fingers. Flowers fill the inside of the carriage and she laughs softly, once, just at the beauty of it and the trust that it shows. That he'll go on her hunch without question and so immediately.
It's probably a good thing his eyes are closed, because the way she looks at him then betrays exactly how deeply she feels for him.
Rather than say anything though she just shifts closer, placing her other hand over their intertwined ones, leaning forward as if both are in prayer as she closes her eyes and focuses as well. Focuses on that connection, the way the magic flows from him to her and back. The different flavor of it, vibrating at a different note, but just as sweet sounding.
It's easier for her since she had felt it before, the way to line up their seiðr so that it crackles like a live wire between them. It's more difficult because she's the empty one this time, needing to be filled, and she leans forward even more as she reaches for it, their foreheads bumping together.
There- right-- She touches the flow of it, and there's a soft intake of breath as it floods her as well. ]
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Loki is aware of her hands on his, her forehead against his own, the closeness of her lips, the warmth of her breath across his face. He's aware of the magic of the Fade running through both of them, inhales, exhales, pulls it closer. Warm and weird and shimmering but not wholly unfamiliar, not after six months of desperately trying to regain all his lost magic. The Fade feels... not alive, not exactly, but responsive to what they're doing. Aware.
He doesn't know the words for it, the alignment that Sylvie manages, the internal click of the moment when it seems as though the dam breaks. But he feels it, much like he both hears and feels her small breath in as it happens.
The light of the flowers inside the carriage increases, brightening at the periphery of his shut eyes, so he opens them just to find Sylvie there, eyes still shut, foreheads still touching albeit only ever so slightly. Loki tilts his head down a bit, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. It's a request for permission, though not aloud; anyone else and he probably would have just gone through with kissing them, but...
Sylvie is different. ]
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Before they can go much further though the carriage hits a bump and their foreheads clonk together painfully as they're jostled completely to one side. That connection is broken as she's tossed almost into his lap, one hand pressing to her face as she squawks in pain and annoyance. ]
Shit! Who taught you how to drive!
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There an apology yelled their way from the driver of the carriage, which Loki ignores in favor of suddenly laughing. The magic dissipated in a shower of green and gold sparks, the last fragments of which still cling to the inner corners of the carriage car, but he felt it, and it was... ]
That was fucking amazing, [ he tells her once the pain in his face has subsided to a point that he can actually speak without wanting to shriek. ] Not the falling part but the rest of it. [ It doesn't dismay him that she's currently in his lap, but he's willing to bet she won't stay there for long; before he can think about it for too long, though, his face begins to throb again. ] Ach, [ he tilts his head upwards. ] Why are humans so fucking breakable?
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Are you alright--
[ And then he starts laughing and the magic pops into a million sparks of gold and green and the relief she feels that he's clearly ok makes her join in; a smattering of quiet chuckles that fade when he winces again and tilts back his head. She carefully smooths his hair back, pulling a face that's half amused, half concerned, her heart still flitting in her chest from the touch of magic...and his lips. ]
They do everything intensely and quickly, pain, life, and feeling. Quite annoying.
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[ Her laughter was beautiful, he thinks, eyes going fond as she cards fingers through his hair. That kiss, as brief as it was? Also beautiful. Magical, even, and he smiles at the thought.
Sylvie hasn't stirred from his lap like he'd expected her to and he feels like it is too much to hope she'll remain, and yet. His hand is not moving until she does. Loki's breath comes out in soft pants, breathing through his mouth since his nose is still so sore. ]
It is very annoying, though.
[ He glances past her towards the window. They're almost at the lift for carriages to bypass the impossible stairs in Kirkwall's Hightown. ]
We'll be there soon.
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[ You are incredibly endearing yourself Loki, is what she wants to say, my favorite work of art. His hand is so hot through her clothing, and for a minute she just watches the way his lips part and move as he breathes through the pain.
Then he's looking out the window and talking and she probably should move- Lest she embarrass him socially somehow- and bites her bottom lip as she slides backwards across the bench back to her side. She almost sits on the bag of pastries, turning and tucking the back onto her lap instead. ]
So tell me, Mister full-of-questions, what is your favorite part of this world.
[ She reaches into the bag of pastries and pulls one at random, holding it out for him. ]
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