They're so very, very corporeal. After all the mystery of the past weeks, that's the first thing that surprises Loki. He supposes it shouldn't. The dead may greatly outnumber the living in the universe, but there are still quite a lot of living, and they tend to want more things and show up to claim them more often. What these beings want, and who they have bargained with to get it, remains to be seen.
But this? This looks like a military camp, except for the objects they seem to have been collecting. So many books. Why so many books?
The barrows are interesting, and his first thought is to want a look inside one. Amidst this chaos may be a good time, but it would be reckless to just wander in without reconnoitering first. He circles for several long minutes, light in the air overhead, observing them treating their wounded. He feels no guilt for the shrieking injured dregs, but the fact that they are tended rather than put out of their misery summarily says something about these people.
(And they are people. They may also be monsters, but they're people.)
Jotun do not, as a rule, heal their wounded, in the world he comes from.
That observation, and the thoughts that follow, alter his approach. They have seen and clashed with armies this winter, but that does not mean there are only armies here. What if these are a nomadic people, and the barrows hold offspring? That would put a different spin on things.
He lands quietly near the biggest barrow, solid once again, but cloaked in an invisibility glamour. He'll see how long that's effective. In the meantime, he stands still and listens to the voices around him, alert in case he is spotted despite his magic.
no subject
But this? This looks like a military camp, except for the objects they seem to have been collecting. So many books. Why so many books?
The barrows are interesting, and his first thought is to want a look inside one. Amidst this chaos may be a good time, but it would be reckless to just wander in without reconnoitering first. He circles for several long minutes, light in the air overhead, observing them treating their wounded. He feels no guilt for the shrieking injured dregs, but the fact that they are tended rather than put out of their misery summarily says something about these people.
(And they are people. They may also be monsters, but they're people.)
Jotun do not, as a rule, heal their wounded, in the world he comes from.
That observation, and the thoughts that follow, alter his approach. They have seen and clashed with armies this winter, but that does not mean there are only armies here. What if these are a nomadic people, and the barrows hold offspring? That would put a different spin on things.
He lands quietly near the biggest barrow, solid once again, but cloaked in an invisibility glamour. He'll see how long that's effective. In the meantime, he stands still and listens to the voices around him, alert in case he is spotted despite his magic.