Right. Because you have to feel the Fade, and how to access the magic through it, instead of just using seiรฐr?
[ He's not sure why he's asking when he's understood it to work that way for a while now, but he wants to be sure they're on the same page.
Anyway. There's tea that has long since cooled and been forgotten at the end of the table; he picks up her cloak with one arm, the book she's requested with the other, and then goes to hang the cloak and take the tea elsewhere. When he returns from the kitchen he has more tea, juice, fruit, along with some meat and cheeses on a plate he sits down next to her. ]
Yes but I've been feeling it, just prodding around as much as I can since that day, but I still cant grasp it on my own yet.
[ She says with a little annoyed drawl, watching as he gathers up her cloak and walks off, giving a little groan of frustration as she leans back in her chair. All his stupid manners when she just wants to get down to the brass tacks of all of this.
Sylvie taps her fingers on the book as Loki does his nonsense stuff, comes back with treats and good smelling tea and she decides not to make a big deal of it and just enjoy what he's brought her instead. ]
I was saying, that feeling how you have put down roots can help me do so as well, and I think probably enhance your grasp in the Fade as well.
[ Loki settles into the chair she'd abandoned her cloak to earlier and crosses one leg so that the ankle is resting on the opposite knee. Her books, and the tea tray, are situated on the table between them. ]
That all sounds good. [ He nods. ] It might not be the same, though, when you do access your magic. There are... limits, I suppose is the best word for it. Some things I can only do for a short period of time now, like large illusions, and I have to study someone to copy their form. But I'm more than interested in this project.
[ He stands up and moves his chair so that it's more directly facing hers instead of the table, and then sits back down, elbows on his knees and hands extended in Sylvie's direction. ]
[ She offers him a tight smile as he moves his chair, honestly more than a little nervous. If this doesnโt work she canโt help but wonder how much longer sheโll have to wait to even feel a spark of magic again.
Loki sits and offers his hands to her and she goes to reach out, only to hesitate a moment in thought. Sylvie licks her lips once, then pulls off her fingerless gloves, placing them on the table before scooting forward so that she can place the full of her hands over his warm palms.
Itโs always a bit of a shock, how big his hands really are.
Eyes close shortly after, and she takes in and slowly exhales a breath as she focuses on the contact of his skin. ]
Focus on that link you have to the Fade. Iโll follow your lead.
[ He watches her until her eyes close, closing his own in the moment after. He breathes in, out, tries to visualize the Fade and the ways he can connect to it, interact with it.
It helps, he thinks, that green is the primary color associated with the Fade. It's dumb as all get out, but it does help.
Either way, it is there eventually, an interconnected web of magic and spirits and understanding that both does and does not exist in the world around them. For a moment he just... feels its existence and is aware of Sylvie just there, at the edge of his consciousness.
And then he reaches towards it. To pull the potentiality of magic towards the both of them. ]
[ It's a little easier this time, letting herself relax, focusing on his hands on hers and the magic that is imbued in them both; weaker in her by far at the moment. It is a bit like following a line into deep water, following hand over fist as he dives into the fade, into the magic, and she follows more cautiously. More uncertain.
It's there though, intense and thick and making the hairs on her arms stand on end, and while it slips through her fingers like mist, Loki grasps tendrils and brings them in. Sylvie feels her hands close around his tighter in the physical word, even as she follows the feeling of him in the fade, the connection he's made there, and finds threads she can pluck at, that don't just pass through her.
There's a shaky little sound that escapes her as she shifts closer to him, like before, the touch of the fade like that of a live wire. Together it is easier to hold on, and she nudges him, both here and there, before speaking soft and breathless. ]
If we can gather it together, and make an anchor for ourselves, it might be easier to work off of.
Alright, [ Loki breathes out. He's never tried anything like that, and there's a few fits and starts before he manages to begin, his fingers tightening around hers.
He wonders how she'd shape an anchor of just her own; this doesn't stop him from trying to craft a place within the Fade that calls to them both. It starts as a shelf, with books and knick-nack-type objects on its surface that remind him of Asgard, remind him of home; a home neither of them are likely to see again, at this rate. A shelf. Shelves. A chair. A small table. A lamp.
He made a reading nook. (Of course he did.) He doesn't know if it will remain this way; things in the Fade are strange and often changeable. But it feels... right, and heavy, present in a way not many things are, here.
Her little noises remind him of other little noses and he wants to kiss her so badly he has to literally swallow down the impulse. One thing at a time; he doesn't want all this work to come unraveled too quickly.
He wonders how much of the details in the things he's created as an anchor she can actually see. Interact with, in the Fade. ]
[ There's a soft little laugh that escapes her, barely more than an exhale, when she realizes what he's doing. How he's building parts of what connects them, their origins, their home. The one she's lost-- that he's lost too, in his own way. Lost a thousand years later, but still gone.
Asgard. The Shining City. Skรญnngarรฐr, threaded down to the bare essentials of those rooms inside the castle that were Loki's. That had been hers-- she'd recognize that reading nook with her eyes closed. The few memories she had that were so ingrained in smell and feel and energy, comfort that they felt hardly worn on the edges at all.
The reading nook expands, stone and mason work and bookcases that curl into the arches of the ceiling, airy and solid at the same time. The tight bend of the space she had spent days reading with sun beaming down on her, the cozy cushions, heavily embroidered, the curtains with their tassels.
A place to return to. ]
I don't give you enough credit.
[ Because really Loki, she can feel it. The connection to the magic through that thing that powers them both-- emotion. ]
[ He wants to know. He doesn't, also; Loki enjoys receiving praise on a very visceral level, to the point where he doesn't really need to know what the praise is for, exactly, every single time and yet.
He wants to know. Wants to hear her say it, or feel her think it, or something along those lines. In waking reality, he smiles at her without opening his eyes. Squeezes her hands ever so slightly.
The warmth from the sun through the windows, the softness of the memory, the intricate details that both of them brought to the space all helps. Loki feels... warmer. Better. The idea that there is some small part of Asgard in the Fade is not a bad one. ]
[ The squeeze to the hand is returned, Sylvie scooting a bit closer again, the thrill of magic and his touch making her want more of it. More of the magic, more of him. She swears that she could feel the threads of fabric beneath her fingers as she admires the embroidery on the pillows, turns and watches the rest of the room unfold from her memories. Walls full of books, history, home. ]
I dunno if I want to inflate your ego that much Loki, but I couldn't have thought up a better anchor. This is... This was my favorite place in Asgard.
[ He's been given a compliment and he practically lights up from it, glad that he got something so right. Still.
He can smell her, in the world; the Gallows' laundry scent comingling with the smells of leather, oil, and spiced soap from Sylvie, so close and so warm that his mouth opens a little at the realization. ]
I'm glad that's the same for both of us. [ It was also his favorite place. He remembers her telling him that everywhere she went, everywhen, caused a Nexus event. That she grew up in apocalypses. He would do a lot to unmake that reality for her, if she wanted. This is going to have to be as close as he comes for now. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ He's not sure why he's asking when he's understood it to work that way for a while now, but he wants to be sure they're on the same page.
Anyway. There's tea that has long since cooled and been forgotten at the end of the table; he picks up her cloak with one arm, the book she's requested with the other, and then goes to hang the cloak and take the tea elsewhere. When he returns from the kitchen he has more tea, juice, fruit, along with some meat and cheeses on a plate he sits down next to her. ]
no subject
[ She says with a little annoyed drawl, watching as he gathers up her cloak and walks off, giving a little groan of frustration as she leans back in her chair. All his stupid manners when she just wants to get down to the brass tacks of all of this.
Sylvie taps her fingers on the book as Loki does his nonsense stuff, comes back with treats and good smelling tea and she decides not to make a big deal of it and just enjoy what he's brought her instead. ]
I was saying, that feeling how you have put down roots can help me do so as well, and I think probably enhance your grasp in the Fade as well.
no subject
That all sounds good. [ He nods. ] It might not be the same, though, when you do access your magic. There are... limits, I suppose is the best word for it. Some things I can only do for a short period of time now, like large illusions, and I have to study someone to copy their form. But I'm more than interested in this project.
Should we start, the same as last time?
no subject
[ She sighs into the last word, popping a grape in her mouth and chewing a bit. ]
I suppose. Unless you have a better idea?
no subject
No, no better ideas.
[ He stands up and moves his chair so that it's more directly facing hers instead of the table, and then sits back down, elbows on his knees and hands extended in Sylvie's direction. ]
no subject
Loki sits and offers his hands to her and she goes to reach out, only to hesitate a moment in thought. Sylvie licks her lips once, then pulls off her fingerless gloves, placing them on the table before scooting forward so that she can place the full of her hands over his warm palms.
Itโs always a bit of a shock, how big his hands really are.
Eyes close shortly after, and she takes in and slowly exhales a breath as she focuses on the contact of his skin. ]
Focus on that link you have to the Fade. Iโll follow your lead.
no subject
It helps, he thinks, that green is the primary color associated with the Fade. It's dumb as all get out, but it does help.
Either way, it is there eventually, an interconnected web of magic and spirits and understanding that both does and does not exist in the world around them. For a moment he just... feels its existence and is aware of Sylvie just there, at the edge of his consciousness.
And then he reaches towards it. To pull the potentiality of magic towards the both of them. ]
no subject
It's there though, intense and thick and making the hairs on her arms stand on end, and while it slips through her fingers like mist, Loki grasps tendrils and brings them in. Sylvie feels her hands close around his tighter in the physical word, even as she follows the feeling of him in the fade, the connection he's made there, and finds threads she can pluck at, that don't just pass through her.
There's a shaky little sound that escapes her as she shifts closer to him, like before, the touch of the fade like that of a live wire. Together it is easier to hold on, and she nudges him, both here and there, before speaking soft and breathless. ]
If we can gather it together, and make an anchor for ourselves, it might be easier to work off of.
[ At least easier for her to return to. ]
no subject
He wonders how she'd shape an anchor of just her own; this doesn't stop him from trying to craft a place within the Fade that calls to them both. It starts as a shelf, with books and knick-nack-type objects on its surface that remind him of Asgard, remind him of home; a home neither of them are likely to see again, at this rate. A shelf. Shelves. A chair. A small table. A lamp.
He made a reading nook. (Of course he did.) He doesn't know if it will remain this way; things in the Fade are strange and often changeable. But it feels... right, and heavy, present in a way not many things are, here.
Her little noises remind him of other little noses and he wants to kiss her so badly he has to literally swallow down the impulse. One thing at a time; he doesn't want all this work to come unraveled too quickly.
He wonders how much of the details in the things he's created as an anchor she can actually see. Interact with, in the Fade. ]
no subject
Asgard. The Shining City. Skรญnngarรฐr, threaded down to the bare essentials of those rooms inside the castle that were Loki's. That had been hers-- she'd recognize that reading nook with her eyes closed. The few memories she had that were so ingrained in smell and feel and energy, comfort that they felt hardly worn on the edges at all.
The reading nook expands, stone and mason work and bookcases that curl into the arches of the ceiling, airy and solid at the same time. The tight bend of the space she had spent days reading with sun beaming down on her, the cozy cushions, heavily embroidered, the curtains with their tassels.
A place to return to. ]
I don't give you enough credit.
[ Because really Loki, she can feel it. The connection to the magic through that thing that powers them both-- emotion. ]
no subject
[ He wants to know. He doesn't, also; Loki enjoys receiving praise on a very visceral level, to the point where he doesn't really need to know what the praise is for, exactly, every single time and yet.
He wants to know. Wants to hear her say it, or feel her think it, or something along those lines. In waking reality, he smiles at her without opening his eyes. Squeezes her hands ever so slightly.
The warmth from the sun through the windows, the softness of the memory, the intricate details that both of them brought to the space all helps. Loki feels... warmer. Better. The idea that there is some small part of Asgard in the Fade is not a bad one. ]
It should be accessible to both of us.
no subject
[ The squeeze to the hand is returned, Sylvie scooting a bit closer again, the thrill of magic and his touch making her want more of it. More of the magic, more of him. She swears that she could feel the threads of fabric beneath her fingers as she admires the embroidery on the pillows, turns and watches the rest of the room unfold from her memories. Walls full of books, history, home. ]
I dunno if I want to inflate your ego that much Loki, but I couldn't have thought up a better anchor. This is... This was my favorite place in Asgard.
[ And now it was both of theirs. ]
no subject
He can smell her, in the world; the Gallows' laundry scent comingling with the smells of leather, oil, and spiced soap from Sylvie, so close and so warm that his mouth opens a little at the realization. ]
I'm glad that's the same for both of us. [ It was also his favorite place. He remembers her telling him that everywhere she went, everywhen, caused a Nexus event. That she grew up in apocalypses. He would do a lot to unmake that reality for her, if she wanted. This is going to have to be as close as he comes for now. ]