Such a small collection of words and phrases, some of them ambiguous, and yet as they drop to the chilly floor between him and the Baroness, Loki feels the world spin upside-down on its access around him. Another paradigm shift, much like within the heart of the ice-caves at the start of the season, but this. This is not personal, nor internal.
His heart is hammering wildly again. His expression gives nothing away.
"Light-thief," he murmurs, and guesses. "You mean Blaze." He saw her in the battle, heard the rumors and saw the signs that she was familiar with these beings. She lies defeated? Dead, or immobilized? Will anyone believe him if he tells them so?
"That's a pity," he says with a fussy little click of his tongue. "She owed me a favor. I was really prepared to enjoy watching her squirm about it. Ah, well."
And Reynard. It's starting to sound as though his agreement with the Eliksni is very nearly the opposite of what most of the Nexus was inclined to believe. Loki included. The torches. The gates of space. Did he freeze the portals to keep humans trapped ans starving, or did he freeze them to keep more of the Fallen from coming in, to keep out a war in no way native to the Nexus itself?
He needs to talk to him. He really needs to talk to him. But there may be no point. Whether the Spirit's motives are cruel or benevolent or neither, there's only a slim chance at a straight answer.
"Well, then." His face lights up in a smile again, one that doesn't reach his eyes because the brain behind them is firing on all cylinders, lost in thought. "That's a straightforward enough message, I think. What territory do you claim? The topography of the Nexus tends to shift; boundaries may in fact become a problem through no deliberate action on anyone's part."
"...and should rivals of your House emerge from the portals, will the poor mortals here know, or will they merely be trapped between the hammer and the anvil with no warning?"
Leviathan pouring out of the rip in the sky over Manhattan. Screaming. Laser fire. It's too late. It's too late to stop it. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to leave marks from his teeth. The Norns have a remarkable sense of humor, don't they?
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His heart is hammering wildly again. His expression gives nothing away.
"Light-thief," he murmurs, and guesses. "You mean Blaze." He saw her in the battle, heard the rumors and saw the signs that she was familiar with these beings. She lies defeated? Dead, or immobilized? Will anyone believe him if he tells them so?
"That's a pity," he says with a fussy little click of his tongue. "She owed me a favor. I was really prepared to enjoy watching her squirm about it. Ah, well."
And Reynard. It's starting to sound as though his agreement with the Eliksni is very nearly the opposite of what most of the Nexus was inclined to believe. Loki included. The torches. The gates of space. Did he freeze the portals to keep humans trapped ans starving, or did he freeze them to keep more of the Fallen from coming in, to keep out a war in no way native to the Nexus itself?
He needs to talk to him. He really needs to talk to him. But there may be no point. Whether the Spirit's motives are cruel or benevolent or neither, there's only a slim chance at a straight answer.
"Well, then." His face lights up in a smile again, one that doesn't reach his eyes because the brain behind them is firing on all cylinders, lost in thought. "That's a straightforward enough message, I think. What territory do you claim? The topography of the Nexus tends to shift; boundaries may in fact become a problem through no deliberate action on anyone's part."
"...and should rivals of your House emerge from the portals, will the poor mortals here know, or will they merely be trapped between the hammer and the anvil with no warning?"
Leviathan pouring out of the rip in the sky over Manhattan. Screaming. Laser fire. It's too late. It's too late to stop it. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to leave marks from his teeth. The Norns have a remarkable sense of humor, don't they?