8706/Patron god of Insults

Patron god of Insults
Date of Scene:	09 August 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Black Cat calls for Loki... and gets to chat.
Cast of Characters:	Loki, Black Cat
Tinyplot:	Weather Spheres

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Loki has posed:
The sunlight is warm on the beach in front of the cabin. It's warm, but not unpleasant at all, as there is a sweet breeze, and the trees and plants locally shift gently with the changes in the air. A salty texture is blown up on those breezes, bringing the wealth of the sea to the nose of any that come near.

There is a particular feature down by the water in a comfortable beach chair, bare feet near the frothy waves, ankles crossed. He's relaxing there, drink in hand: a red wine of some kind. The dark haired visitor is disarmingly at ease in an open necked breezy light cream shirt, said hair curling some from the humidity of proximity to the ocean.

Black Cat has posed:
No one outright warned her against seeking out the Trickster God again...

Okay, that's a lie: multiple people have warned Felicia against making contact with him again, but in her mind? There's a lingering loose end to be tied off and it's been skittering around in the back of her brain for days now. With the Sanctum relatively quiet, the white-blonde thief steps out of her room. A blown sigh pufts a loose strand of hair out of her face and seconds as a reaction to nerves, as she then opens it up again.

The oceanic breeze wafts in and despite herself, Felicia smiles. It is a lovely day at the beach house. In a light summer dress of whispery silky patterned with golden curlings overtop a deep royal-violet, she steps through the door bare of feet and onto the sedge grass flattened by the wind. The figure in the lounging chair has her pausing and squinting.

Really?

Okay, easier than expected.

It's with her heart nearing her throat that she approaches the figure, dark-haired and sporting yet another glass of wine. "I hear saltwater's good for the hair. Is that what you're going for? Your toes are going to get pruney otherwise," she comments on approach, her hands in the pockets of her dress.

Loki has posed:
The Trickster God seems to entirely ignore her at first, as if he didn't hear her, or perhaps was just taking a few extra moments to savor the wine he was enjoying. He still doesn't turn, but appreciates the sea first.

Yet, before she's able to follow up with more concerns about the state of his toes, she gets a reply:

"Good afternoon. Will they? Ah, were I that such things would affect me," Loki observes, in a thoughtful, distant way. The tone is, in fact, as far from 'Jeremy' as it has ever been: one of Loki's more ethereal, regal modes.

Loki remains where he is, turning the wine by the stem of the glass. There's an expectant quality to it: he's waiting for something, despite his relaxed manner.

Black Cat has posed:
"Asgardians don't get pruney toes? That's a new tidbit," the thief muses aloud, having now reached the pale sand beside the lounging chair. Her own toes bury their way into the sunwarmed granules and she lets out a slow sigh, pretending she's far calmer than she feels inside. It's just Loki -- no big deal. Not like one Mister Barnes was telling her he's nothing but trouble.

"You're doing a great job with the ennui this afternoon. Is the wine good?" Felicia then asks, her lips twitching against a smile at her own audacity. The breeze lazes past them and makes the skirt of her dress swirl about her toned legs, lightly bronzed from lingering in the sun.

Loki has posed:
Loki seems to choose to ignore the comment about prune toes, without even really any response at all. Maybe the ennui as she mentioned is indeed tamping down on much of his reaction: or something else is at play.

Finally Loki does look at her, though, as she 'compliments' him sarcastically. A smile, slippery and confident, moves one side of his lips, as she will find his gaze on her in a steady manner. "Clearly I seek to suit your expectations," Loki answers, cool but not unpleasant. "My wine is always good." He settles his back more in the chair, with a slight toss of head that allows some breeze to blow a few curly strands of dark hair from his cheek and forehead out of his way.

"Ennui? You would perhaps prefer to entertain me yourself?" There's a laughing undertone there: he's pretty self aware about what others see him as. In fact, he's played on it as Jeremy, personally - he's warned people about drawing Loki's attention.

Black Cat has posed:
"Hmm...I dunno. I don't I'm //that// entertaining," the thief demures with a little smirk back at him. "I can't summon up wine in a glass and stuff like that, y'know. I have to buy my own wine. Watch out for that crab." A wee blue crab is side-stepping its way across the wet sand and nearing the Trickster God's toes. Its beady stalk-eyes consider them both as it nears them.

"Anyways, I thought I'd stop by and say hi. I've talked with a lot of people about you lately, since you're...the patron god of Punk'd and all. I keep hearing conflicting things, which is in line with your scope of work." Felicia's eyes then look out towards the horizon of the sky and the sea. She sighs again. "That, and I figure I'd say thanks because nobody else is going to."

Loki has posed:
"It can't harm me," Loki says, with a clear disregard for the small ocean roach that considers them. Loki often uses the same tone with humans, though she has not, as yet, been privy to that. Still, there's an arrogance that comes with godhood, of things that do, or don't, matter to him at all.

"Talking about me; that can't be healthy," Loki tut-tuts, though she does seem to be entertaining him, in some fashion, since he laughs softly. "You're going to say thanks?" Loki then prompts, changing the wine to his other hand, and then gestures a little with a curve of his fingers of his right hand, in a 'go ahead' motion, brows quirking.

She has the floor to do so.

Black Cat has posed:
At first, Loki gets an eye-roll. It's a grade-A circular rotation of her orbs in their sockets, but she apparently can't help the rueful half-smirk. This Asgardian has her outstripped several times over in pride yet.

"Yeah, it's a multi-pronged kind of thank you. We'll break it down nice and simple." Her hands appear and she unfurls a finger for each point, tapping fingerpad to fingerpad in turn with each new digit appearing. "First of all, thank you for talking to me. I don't know if you're busy or what, but I appreciate it. Number two, thanks for the kitten. Shammy's probably one of the best gifts I've gotten in a long time. Thirdly, thanks for the Orbs. Like I said before...it meant a lot to get them back, even if you took them in the first place."

She pauses as she watches the crab with its small black-tipped claw reach out and pinch at Loki's toe. "...that thing's got cojones," she muses.

Loki has posed:
"It's all right," Loki says, glancing at the crab, amusement apparent. "I am one of the best there is at appearing to be far less dangerous than I actually am." He took no damage from the nip of the claw, of course: it would have to be one hell of a strong super-crab to actually do something to Loki.

"Were I to fling away every insignificant life form that prodded at me, where would I get my entertainment?" Loki asks, elusively. He then grants her one of his grins. It's quite flattering on his handsome visage, but also carries all of the reasons why people have warned her. Loki's a snake.

"You are /welcome/. Why it is so hard for some to accept my assistance has always troubled me," Loki snorts. "I took the Orbs to drain them to where they won't destroy the planet, regardless of who has them. Leaving them at full power was foolish. My altruism is shocking, I'm aware, but, lacking Asgard, this realm has my assistance. /Eventually/ those here may realize that," Loki releases a haughty huff of breath, but nothing in his tone suggested anything other than annoyance.

"Are you intending to beg for the other two orbs?" Loki asks. It isn't a snide question, by his tone, more as if he were tired. "Let me rephrase; that might have hit your pride. Are you going to /request/ them politely?"

Black Cat has posed:
"Mmmm...not sure yet." Felicia's tone is airy as she watches the blue crab continue trying to figure out whether or not Loki's toe is squishy and, ergo, edible, or just another weird hard artifact of its environment. It decides upon the latter and continues side-crawling on, little eye-stalks bobbling. A wash of a wave rushes up higher and drags the crustacean back with it, leaving the thief's feet buried deeper yet in the white sand.

"I've got a few more people to talk to before I get to requesting things again," she continues, now glancing over at Loki. Her smile is a mild thing, with a twinkle of her charm primarily in her kohl-lined eyes. "You get around, I realize. Well, not in the...conjugal way, but...entertaining yourself, I guess." Her hands get squirreled away back into pockets again. "I'm curious though, do you know a guy with a metal arm?"

Loki has posed:
"Suit yourself. I would consider handing them over in trade for favors later," Loki says, serene, but shrugging his shoulders. He finishes his wine, and with a flick, the glass is just -- gone. He presses his palms to the armrests of his chair, moving to his feet; the chair similarly disappears in a twist of soft red smoke: it may or may not have existed, and it isn't important.

"I'm not really here to answer your curiosities. I'll humor you for now: yes, I /always/ 'know a guy'," Loki says, sly.

Black Cat has posed:
By the small sound to escape in her sigh, Felicia did expect some twist of phrasing -- of course: favors, one of those things she was warned about in regards to the Trickster God. At least the predictability of his unpredictability is a plausible expectation. Her lips purse and she squints at his vague answer.

"You answer like you know twenty guys with metal arms. How in the hell would you know twenty guys with metal arms? That's statistically unlikely, just saying, especially if it's on a particular side only. Look, talking to him was like trying to shove your foot in a Prada boot half a size too small -- like, he took //joy// in not talking to me, which is, like...what the hell," she grouses. "Anyways, curiosity satisfied...I guess." She gives Loki a reprimanding eyebrow nonetheless, as if a round-about answer was an insult.

Loki has posed:
Loki laughs. It isn't false sounding; Loki's probably actually laughing, in his way. "I know a guy with a metal eye. Another with a leg. Arm? At least two come to mind. The world of cyborgs is bigger than you realize, I'd say. And why keep it to metal? Men with stone bodies are useful to animate, if you need legions of minions in a pinch," Loki smoothly says.

He rounds some towards her, his approach slightly close, deliberately into her personal space just far enough to be close, but not actually get called on it. He's a social manipulation master.

"What does he think of me, then?" Loki asks, voice lowered, confidential, and somehow softened.

Black Cat has posed:
An influx to her personal space is countered by a smooth, subtle shift of weight on her part to retain the initial distance as best she can manage. Felicia holds his eyes as fearlessly as she can manage, though it might be noticeable how she looks between his more often than a comfortable conversationalist might, as if hunting for tells.

"I'll keep the minions bit in mind, given somebody needs to carry my shopping bags when I change out my wardrobe for the season. As far as Mister Fuddy-Duddy Prada-boot goes? He didn't exactly give you a gleaming review...though he did call you 'immortal' and 'clever' along with 'malicious'. He also suggested that I stop talking to you in hopes you'd get bored and wander off." Her head tilts and she shrugs in a slow, charming manner towards him.

Loki has posed:
Loki is still smiling, but there's a new gleam in his eyes as she deems him immortal, clever, and malicious. It is a gleam appropriate to a villain that did attack a city. And has also defended it, since then.

"As if I were so easy to manipulate," Loki says, thoughtfully. "Besides, there are those that pray for my patronage and support. I often favor those you might call thieves or /underdogs/ that can use a little something -- to be so much more than anyone realizes they can be. To be 'rid' of me; me, who can grant power, second chances, or even heal from the brink of death--? Hmh. Insulting, really."

Insulted, perhaps, Loki draws back from her proximity, and gestures with one hand, loosely, and begins to become transparent: probably leaving. "Interesting to hear his recommendation was such, after I /save/ him. Humans. Disgusting."

Black Cat has posed:
"I mean, you're kind of making his point here," Felicia replies with a gesture of her hand at him, still close to her own person. Her fingernails might cross the air close to him without touching the fine cream-colored poet-shirt the god sports. "Look: you're bored and you're wandering off. I didn't think you took mortal suggestions so seriously. You, bothered by the guy calling you a name? I get called names all the time. Although, I doubt anyone's ever called you a bitch."

Still...he's got her attention with the comment about light-fingered patronage. "You're...a patron god? No way."

Loki has posed:
"Generally... I am anything I feel like being," Loki replies in his elusive way. "Oh, I don't /really/ care about it, other than that I will 'tease' him about it later, perhaps," Loki says, indifferently, dropping the pretense of being offended. It's replaced with the more even-keeled amusement that has been a staple of the often infuriating god. "My opinion of humans being disgusting wasn't specifically due to /that/. Centuries of their behavior formed that thought."

"Don't worry, I'll leave a spy here. I'm rarely truly gone," Loki says, with a full disappearance. Even the prints in the sand disappear. Was she even talking to anything other than one of his ghosts?

"If you /do/ want the other orbs... reopen the Sanctum to me, and I'll consider it."

Is he gone? Maybe.