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One of Loki's names was Sky Walker
Angrboda looks up in surprise at the rustling sound -- there is only the smallest wind breaking the heat of the day, and it should not be enough to rattle the leaves in the trees.
Loki Laufeyarson, wrapped in a befeathered cloak, is crouching in a tree.
"You're not supposed to be here!" Angrboda is aghast. He's not trained or hallowed, and only seidwomen and the occasional seidmen are allowed on the island -- at least allowed with the hope of returning to their homes. The thralls who come here do not return, because the holy fire is hungry. "Loki, they'll kill you for setting foot on this island!"
"You said I couldn't set foot on the island. I'm not *on* the island. I'm in a tree."
"That's a fine distinction that will get you nowhere. You didn't *fly* here," Angrboda snaps, and then shuts her mouth. Loki is looking at her with a wicked mischievous smile, and his hands stroke the edges of the ridiculous cloak -- it's a *woman's* cloak by cut, the silly Wolf's-son doesn't realize or perhaps doesn't care. "*Did* you fly here?"
Loki responds by stretching out one hand to grasp hers. He smiles, and says, "Come flying with me?"
Angrboda finds herself taking one step to him, then another, until he reaches down and pulls her smoothly into the tree. She has to clutch close to balance -- Loki stands like a cat, perfectly at ease on the low bough he's chosen, but she twists and tumbles until he wraps his arms around her waist, and leaps.
Angrboda yelps in fear and surprise, as she's yanked backwards into the air. The ground is falling away under her feet, and all she can do is scream and grab tighter at Loki.
The brat is chuckling in her ear.
"It's not funny, Loki! Let me down before I fall!" she yells at him.
"You won't fall. I've wanted to take you flying for a long time, Angrboda!" he yells back, and goes higher, into the rainclouds that have been hovering all day.
Angrboda shrieks at the wet mist -- it's like standing beside a waterfall -- and buries her hands in his belt.
"Angrboda, we've broken through. Look," Loki murmurs finally, as they've risen above the clouds.
She risks opening an eye, then both in wonder. The Northern Lights have come dancing above the clouds, green and pink and all manner of bright colors, sparkling and swirling.
"Oh," she sighs. "Oh, Loki, the dancers, they're so beautiful."
"Knew you'd like it," he chuckles, and kisses the back of her neck as he glides them over the clouds. It's a magical night above the clouds, and Angrboda regrets that he can't come with her back to the longhouse when he deposits her on the ground. He's very careful though, never letting his feet touch the ground before he flits off with a laugh and a smile full of promise.
Angrboda walks back to the gathered seid-workers with a light step and dreams of a future she has not seen except in her heart.
Another was Far-Traveller
Hrothulf peers around the shelter of his mother's skirts, and then hides his face against her.
Gabriel is startled at the boy's action. Surely he's not afraid of Gabriel? Surely it is only that Thor stands at his side, big and bristling and loud.
"Hrothi?" Gabriel asks, trying to be soft and friendly, and knowing he's not doing a good job of it.
Angrboda laughs, her bright tinkling cheer as she leans down to try to persuade the baby to stop hiding. The little boy shakes his head and claps his hand over his eyes.
"Go on," Thor nudges Gabriel in the side. At Gabriel's baffled look, the god chuckles and says, "He's just doesn't recognize you -- it's been almost a year, Loki."
"*I* don't forget people after a year," Gabriel protests. In fact, Gabriel doesn't forget at all. He has to live with an ever unfolding set of memories, some that are invoke by the slightest thing -- the smell of smelted copper, the color of poppies, thin moans and smoke being among the worst for invoking bad memories.
Thor just rolls his eyes and shoves Gabriel forward with a strong hand on his back.
Gabriel creeps forward, and when Angrboda looks hard at him, crouches down. He takes the cap off his head and tries to look soft again.
"Hey, Hrothi, remember me?"
The little boy draws back from Gabriel's reaching hand, burying his head shyly against Angrboda, and twisting fingers in her dress. Gabriel looks up at his lover, and raises his eyebrows.
"It's allright, Hrothi," Angrboda murmurs, and strokes the boy's head. "You remember Loki. You remember your father. He's the one who loved you, even before I did."
Hrothi snuffes, and lifts his head for long enough to give Gabriel a hard up-and-down. Apparently, Gabriel doesn't measure up to whatever standard the boy has, because he turns back to Angrboda and makes a displeased whine.
"Hrothi," Gabriel tries again, "don't be afraid. I just want to see you." Gabriel risks stepping closer. He knows infants and barely growing humans are fragile, and he has no idea how it will be for something like Hrothi, who is made out giant blood and angel grace.
"Hrothi," Angrboda says in a warning tone. She's getting annoyed at the baby, Gabriel can tell, so he sidles forward, until the child is close between them.
That's when Hrothi lifts his head and sniffles, a sad and theaterically childish sound. The boy stops and wrinkles his nose. Then he turns to Gabriell and chirps, "Faeder...?" like a bird.
Gabriel smiles in relief, and slides his arms around the infant, as Hrothi relaxes and flops against Gabriel. The little boy snuffles like a sleepy Wolf, digging his nose into Gabriel's travel-worn shirt.
"Hey, you do remember me..." Gabriel smiles, and brushes a hand over his son's baby fine hair.
and sometimes he was referred to as the Bound God
Sigyn wants to hit her husband, many times and in public, so no one could think anything other than that *she* is the one who is divorcing him. At least, that's a thought that reoccurs to her over the long years. At the moment, though, she's just furious at him, at Odin, at herself for not managing to stop her uncle or her husband.
And she's horribly sad, but if she let's herself think on that, she'll never get up again.
Loki is chained down in three places -- the chains are made of the guts of their son, of her little Narvi -- and Sigyn can see the tracks of venom on Loki's face and chest, as Skadi's parting gift hisses and drips eitr -- the stuff of life and the poison that can kill gods -- on him.
Sigyn grudgingly holds the platter she's taken up, and hears the first splatter as the snake drips venom and hatred onto it instead of Loki.
Loki rolls his eyes up at the snake, and seems surprised. He looks at her with swollen, almost sealed eyes, and sighs in gratitude.
"I said I would remain. I, at least, am loyal."
Loi rolls eyes wildly. "You should have...ahhh... thank you, thank you. I can't think. Why can't I think...?"
"Shut up, Loki," she says.
He looks at her, his changeable eyes almost unreadable, and then sighs in resignation.
Oddly enough, this is turning into a bit of a love story between Angrboda and Gabriel ... while his marriage to Sigyn is more of friendly compromise between two people who don't have *that* much in common except harassment from an authority figure they both have to deal with. I don't know what's going on with these two relationships...
Angrboda looks up in surprise at the rustling sound -- there is only the smallest wind breaking the heat of the day, and it should not be enough to rattle the leaves in the trees.
Loki Laufeyarson, wrapped in a befeathered cloak, is crouching in a tree.
"You're not supposed to be here!" Angrboda is aghast. He's not trained or hallowed, and only seidwomen and the occasional seidmen are allowed on the island -- at least allowed with the hope of returning to their homes. The thralls who come here do not return, because the holy fire is hungry. "Loki, they'll kill you for setting foot on this island!"
"You said I couldn't set foot on the island. I'm not *on* the island. I'm in a tree."
"That's a fine distinction that will get you nowhere. You didn't *fly* here," Angrboda snaps, and then shuts her mouth. Loki is looking at her with a wicked mischievous smile, and his hands stroke the edges of the ridiculous cloak -- it's a *woman's* cloak by cut, the silly Wolf's-son doesn't realize or perhaps doesn't care. "*Did* you fly here?"
Loki responds by stretching out one hand to grasp hers. He smiles, and says, "Come flying with me?"
Angrboda finds herself taking one step to him, then another, until he reaches down and pulls her smoothly into the tree. She has to clutch close to balance -- Loki stands like a cat, perfectly at ease on the low bough he's chosen, but she twists and tumbles until he wraps his arms around her waist, and leaps.
Angrboda yelps in fear and surprise, as she's yanked backwards into the air. The ground is falling away under her feet, and all she can do is scream and grab tighter at Loki.
The brat is chuckling in her ear.
"It's not funny, Loki! Let me down before I fall!" she yells at him.
"You won't fall. I've wanted to take you flying for a long time, Angrboda!" he yells back, and goes higher, into the rainclouds that have been hovering all day.
Angrboda shrieks at the wet mist -- it's like standing beside a waterfall -- and buries her hands in his belt.
"Angrboda, we've broken through. Look," Loki murmurs finally, as they've risen above the clouds.
She risks opening an eye, then both in wonder. The Northern Lights have come dancing above the clouds, green and pink and all manner of bright colors, sparkling and swirling.
"Oh," she sighs. "Oh, Loki, the dancers, they're so beautiful."
"Knew you'd like it," he chuckles, and kisses the back of her neck as he glides them over the clouds. It's a magical night above the clouds, and Angrboda regrets that he can't come with her back to the longhouse when he deposits her on the ground. He's very careful though, never letting his feet touch the ground before he flits off with a laugh and a smile full of promise.
Angrboda walks back to the gathered seid-workers with a light step and dreams of a future she has not seen except in her heart.
Another was Far-Traveller
Hrothulf peers around the shelter of his mother's skirts, and then hides his face against her.
Gabriel is startled at the boy's action. Surely he's not afraid of Gabriel? Surely it is only that Thor stands at his side, big and bristling and loud.
"Hrothi?" Gabriel asks, trying to be soft and friendly, and knowing he's not doing a good job of it.
Angrboda laughs, her bright tinkling cheer as she leans down to try to persuade the baby to stop hiding. The little boy shakes his head and claps his hand over his eyes.
"Go on," Thor nudges Gabriel in the side. At Gabriel's baffled look, the god chuckles and says, "He's just doesn't recognize you -- it's been almost a year, Loki."
"*I* don't forget people after a year," Gabriel protests. In fact, Gabriel doesn't forget at all. He has to live with an ever unfolding set of memories, some that are invoke by the slightest thing -- the smell of smelted copper, the color of poppies, thin moans and smoke being among the worst for invoking bad memories.
Thor just rolls his eyes and shoves Gabriel forward with a strong hand on his back.
Gabriel creeps forward, and when Angrboda looks hard at him, crouches down. He takes the cap off his head and tries to look soft again.
"Hey, Hrothi, remember me?"
The little boy draws back from Gabriel's reaching hand, burying his head shyly against Angrboda, and twisting fingers in her dress. Gabriel looks up at his lover, and raises his eyebrows.
"It's allright, Hrothi," Angrboda murmurs, and strokes the boy's head. "You remember Loki. You remember your father. He's the one who loved you, even before I did."
Hrothi snuffes, and lifts his head for long enough to give Gabriel a hard up-and-down. Apparently, Gabriel doesn't measure up to whatever standard the boy has, because he turns back to Angrboda and makes a displeased whine.
"Hrothi," Gabriel tries again, "don't be afraid. I just want to see you." Gabriel risks stepping closer. He knows infants and barely growing humans are fragile, and he has no idea how it will be for something like Hrothi, who is made out giant blood and angel grace.
"Hrothi," Angrboda says in a warning tone. She's getting annoyed at the baby, Gabriel can tell, so he sidles forward, until the child is close between them.
That's when Hrothi lifts his head and sniffles, a sad and theaterically childish sound. The boy stops and wrinkles his nose. Then he turns to Gabriell and chirps, "Faeder...?" like a bird.
Gabriel smiles in relief, and slides his arms around the infant, as Hrothi relaxes and flops against Gabriel. The little boy snuffles like a sleepy Wolf, digging his nose into Gabriel's travel-worn shirt.
"Hey, you do remember me..." Gabriel smiles, and brushes a hand over his son's baby fine hair.
and sometimes he was referred to as the Bound God
Sigyn wants to hit her husband, many times and in public, so no one could think anything other than that *she* is the one who is divorcing him. At least, that's a thought that reoccurs to her over the long years. At the moment, though, she's just furious at him, at Odin, at herself for not managing to stop her uncle or her husband.
And she's horribly sad, but if she let's herself think on that, she'll never get up again.
Loki is chained down in three places -- the chains are made of the guts of their son, of her little Narvi -- and Sigyn can see the tracks of venom on Loki's face and chest, as Skadi's parting gift hisses and drips eitr -- the stuff of life and the poison that can kill gods -- on him.
Sigyn grudgingly holds the platter she's taken up, and hears the first splatter as the snake drips venom and hatred onto it instead of Loki.
Loki rolls his eyes up at the snake, and seems surprised. He looks at her with swollen, almost sealed eyes, and sighs in gratitude.
"I said I would remain. I, at least, am loyal."
Loi rolls eyes wildly. "You should have...ahhh... thank you, thank you. I can't think. Why can't I think...?"
"Shut up, Loki," she says.
He looks at her, his changeable eyes almost unreadable, and then sighs in resignation.
Oddly enough, this is turning into a bit of a love story between Angrboda and Gabriel ... while his marriage to Sigyn is more of friendly compromise between two people who don't have *that* much in common except harassment from an authority figure they both have to deal with. I don't know what's going on with these two relationships...
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Did the part with Sigyn make sense?
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