"It is not goats which are the problem, but a puca." Thor had had to ask what one of those was, but he won't insult Loki's intelligence by presuming his brother doesn't know.
"One has been disrupting travel in the forest of La Llorona, and I'm to see that it stops." One way or another.
There's a little interest in his voice and his expression changes, perking up considerably.
"Oh, scary. Tasked with going after the beast, are you? Somehow my mind has wandered to less in the realm of a stubborn beast and more to B-movie horror flick meets an unfortunate countryside barn."
Thor crosses his arms, not about to be scared out of his task by his brother. "I've heard they have fearsome powers of illusion, on top of their terrible tempers, but that is not what I've come to ask."
"What I wish is to capture the creature alive, if possible."
So he might be talking it up a bit. He'd ridden on a puca once, and it wasn't the most pleasant of experiences, it was exhilarating.
This sounded like a bad idea, and it had Thor's name written all over it.
"Wrestling it down in a battle of strength is potentially on the board, I hope. And if that's the case, what hand of mine do you need in that? I'm a weaver of illusions, not one that potentially unravels them."
"The Lady Ariadne has warned me of these creatures' powers of illusion." Thor's tone indicates that he does not take that threat quite as seriously as some might want him to. At least he's listened to someone else's advice.
"If they are truly so fearsome, I would prefer an object which will keep me on the creature's back, no matter what nightmarish vision is shown to me."
"I'm no dwarf," Loki begins with a wave of his hand. "I'm missing the beard, you know. The grimy dwarf beard that is riddled with foodstuffs." The only thing better than poking fun at the elves was poking fun at the dwarves. "But I can see what I can do. I hope this is pressing, as this place binds my abilities."
He heads to his desk, fingers clasping around the mouth of a mason jar. With a cock of his hip, he holds it at ready, motioning with it between his fingers.
"You'll have fourteen days! And you'll have to make it work."
Thor follows to the desk, smiling despite himself at the thought of his brother with a beard. He's about to ask about Loki's limitations here, as he's felt limited himself- but now's not the time. There's a puca to catch, and Thor doesn't know how long it'll take Loki to make what he needs.
"I was thinking an unbreakable rope would serve me well." He unties a length of rope from his belt, having brought it in case Loki needed something. "Then whatever illusions it will attempt to sway me with, I'll not be thrown from it."
Loki never turned down good material. He lifts his hand to take it, weighing it for no other reason than to look like it had something to do with the sorcery that he was going to cast upon it. He draws out the length between his palms to look at it.
"Dwarf-stuff—but I can fake it." At least he's honest. He wasn't a forger like the dwarves, but he could trick a puca to give Thor a fighting chance. "Very well. You've got your unbreakable rope, but it's like I said." He shakes a finger as he passes him on his way back to the desk. "Fourteen days, no more."
Thor is almost affronted by the finger waggling. It's like his younger brother has no faith in him.
He folds his arms across his chest. "Have no fear, brother. I'll be back in no less than two days, and we'll celebrate my triumph long into the night."
Thor follows, watching curiously. He was relying on his brother a great deal for this, but it as rare that he had the chance to see his brother at work.
"I hear they have a terrible temper, so I felt Tyr might be appropriate."
Unable to claim that they don't have a sister to name the puca after, Thor is silent for a moment, thinking of things other than nightmare horses or world-ending voids.
A sister.
But he returns to himself. "Tyr would suit either, if the beast is fearsome enough." He tries for a cheeky smile, but does not quite manage it.
"There are those more fearsome than Tyr—I believe our sister Aldrif gave you a run for your coin in regards to kicks to the face, didn't she? Perhaps ... well, you have two to choose from, she calls herself Angela now, doesn't she?"
Loki's busying himself by looking at the length of the rope, testing its strength and going through spells in his head that may be appropriate.
He knows he may be touching on a subject that may still be a tad sore.
Loki looks up from the rope as Thor breaks his pause.
"Very well, I'm sure that she wouldn't take to well to it, anyway. As if she takes well to much of anything." Of course, he didn't know her, not that well, but well enough. Loki was always better at dealing with people like her. Thor and Angela, well, that was like the fire meeting the storm.
"I cannot tell if you mean our sister, or the puca."
He wonders what their sister is like. She had proved herself a mighty warrior, but what of her time off the field of battle? Was she a hunter? A general? Did she have a sense of humour, or was she as stern as Tyr?
There was a little play on those words that he seemed quite proud of.
"But our sister. I spoke to her while you were—erm, out of commission. She's serious, if not a little green. But she has been stuck in the same realm for an awful long time."
"I look forward to what she makes of her newfound freedom."
Though, for Aldrif it would seem like exile at first, would it not? Banished from the land of her home, and all those she knew and loved.
"Do you know where she went?" Thor had needed to return all too quickly to Earth to fight the Watcher, and had not had time to see the aftermath of the war in Heven.
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"One has been disrupting travel in the forest of La Llorona, and I'm to see that it stops." One way or another.
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There's a little interest in his voice and his expression changes, perking up considerably.
"Oh, scary. Tasked with going after the beast, are you? Somehow my mind has wandered to less in the realm of a stubborn beast and more to B-movie horror flick meets an unfortunate countryside barn."
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Thor crosses his arms, not about to be scared out of his task by his brother. "I've heard they have fearsome powers of illusion, on top of their terrible tempers, but that is not what I've come to ask."
"What I wish is to capture the creature alive, if possible."
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So he might be talking it up a bit. He'd ridden on a puca once, and it wasn't the most pleasant of experiences, it was exhilarating.
This sounded like a bad idea, and it had Thor's name written all over it.
"Wrestling it down in a battle of strength is potentially on the board, I hope. And if that's the case, what hand of mine do you need in that? I'm a weaver of illusions, not one that potentially unravels them."
Though he could, if he wanted.
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"If they are truly so fearsome, I would prefer an object which will keep me on the creature's back, no matter what nightmarish vision is shown to me."
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He heads to his desk, fingers clasping around the mouth of a mason jar. With a cock of his hip, he holds it at ready, motioning with it between his fingers.
"You'll have fourteen days! And you'll have to make it work."
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"I was thinking an unbreakable rope would serve me well." He unties a length of rope from his belt, having brought it in case Loki needed something. "Then whatever illusions it will attempt to sway me with, I'll not be thrown from it."
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"Dwarf-stuff—but I can fake it." At least he's honest. He wasn't a forger like the dwarves, but he could trick a puca to give Thor a fighting chance. "Very well. You've got your unbreakable rope, but it's like I said." He shakes a finger as he passes him on his way back to the desk. "Fourteen days, no more."
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He folds his arms across his chest. "Have no fear, brother. I'll be back in no less than two days, and we'll celebrate my triumph long into the night."
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He heads over to his desk, picking at his supplies, looking for something appropriate to rune up this junk.
There's a brief look of amusement on his face.
"Best to use this time to think of a good name."
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"I hear they have a terrible temper, so I felt Tyr might be appropriate."
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A sister.
But he returns to himself. "Tyr would suit either, if the beast is fearsome enough." He tries for a cheeky smile, but does not quite manage it.
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Loki's busying himself by looking at the length of the rope, testing its strength and going through spells in his head that may be appropriate.
He knows he may be touching on a subject that may still be a tad sore.
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"No. For all that our sister has a fierce temper, I would not use her name so lightly until I have had a chance to prove myself worthy of her."
For she was family, and that was important.
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"Very well, I'm sure that she wouldn't take to well to it, anyway. As if she takes well to much of anything." Of course, he didn't know her, not that well, but well enough. Loki was always better at dealing with people like her. Thor and Angela, well, that was like the fire meeting the storm.
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He wonders what their sister is like. She had proved herself a mighty warrior, but what of her time off the field of battle? Was she a hunter? A general? Did she have a sense of humour, or was she as stern as Tyr?
Thor hoped they would have a chance to find out.
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There was a little play on those words that he seemed quite proud of.
"But our sister. I spoke to her while you were—erm, out of commission. She's serious, if not a little green. But she has been stuck in the same realm for an awful long time."
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Though, for Aldrif it would seem like exile at first, would it not? Banished from the land of her home, and all those she knew and loved.
"Do you know where she went?" Thor had needed to return all too quickly to Earth to fight the Watcher, and had not had time to see the aftermath of the war in Heven.
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That he was certain of, all children of Odin somehow managed to find themselves in questionable circumstances more than not.
Loki pauses from rearranging his desk to look up at Thor. His features soften considerably, and then he says quietly: "We'll see her again."