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That will do nicely. I shall contact you upon my return.
- Loki
- Loki
[He technically got back from the mission more than a day ago, but he spent that day laying low until he could muster the reserves necessary to return himself to his natural form. While it may be known by some now, he's not ready to advertise that particular talent of his around.
But once he's looking nicely Loki-like again, he recalls that there are horses, and he's been promised an introduction.]
I've returned. Let me know when you would like me to come by.
But once he's looking nicely Loki-like again, he recalls that there are horses, and he's been promised an introduction.]
I've returned. Let me know when you would like me to come by.
[Gregor has found himself in another slump since the birthday party. He considers not answering. He decides to not because he wants to, but because he knows he'll be glad he did later on. Or hopes he will. He appears unshaven and a bit messy-haired.]
Sure. Um. Give me a few minutes to shave and I'll be down.
Sure. Um. Give me a few minutes to shave and I'll be down.
[Loki notices that in addition to that, Greg also has a black eye.
Well. That sure is a thing. For the moment, he politely pretends to not notice. He doesn't want to lose out on his chance to get to be around horses for a bit.]
...why don't I stop for a coffee. Would you care for one?
Well. That sure is a thing. For the moment, he politely pretends to not notice. He doesn't want to lose out on his chance to get to be around horses for a bit.]
...why don't I stop for a coffee. Would you care for one?
[Oh good. He was right. That is the way mortals do things. He smiles.]
I shall await you at the stables, then. With coffee.
[He takes his time with the walking and the coffee getting, since Gregor had been looking a bit rough. Well, maybe the boredom is getting to him, too, Loki thinks. He'll hopefully get a better sense of the man throughout the conversation, even if that's not the real point of this exercise.
Two cups of coffee in hand, he arrives.]
I shall await you at the stables, then. With coffee.
[He takes his time with the walking and the coffee getting, since Gregor had been looking a bit rough. Well, maybe the boredom is getting to him, too, Loki thinks. He'll hopefully get a better sense of the man throughout the conversation, even if that's not the real point of this exercise.
Two cups of coffee in hand, he arrives.]
Perhaps you mortals go about it differently, but in my experience, that shan't make it heal any faster.
[Loki offers Gregor the cup.]
[Loki offers Gregor the cup.]
[Loki's eyebrows go up, an invitation to explain without demanding.]
Oh, onto a doorknob too, no doubt.
[Yes, that is sarcasm.
Loki shrugs one shoulder.]
I've been on the receiving end of enough such bruises. Best think of a better story.
[Yes, that is sarcasm.
Loki shrugs one shoulder.]
I've been on the receiving end of enough such bruises. Best think of a better story.
[Gregor shrugs.] There were witnesses, but I won't press you. [He pushes to his feet and motions toward one stall.] Since you're going to be helping out here, I figured you'd get in on the vote. We have two new geldings that need names.
[He opens one stall belonging to a docile grey gelding.]
I thought I'd let the new hands choose a name, but people are a bit shy about suggestions.
[He opens one stall belonging to a docile grey gelding.]
I thought I'd let the new hands choose a name, but people are a bit shy about suggestions.
[Loki's face immediately lights with a smile upon seeing the horse. He produces an apple and offers it to the animal.]
You're quite the handsome fellow, aren't you.
[Relieved of the apple by the animal, Loki takes a better look at him, moving with confidence. After a moment he laughs quietly.]
You could call him Frakki. He seems quite brave.
You're quite the handsome fellow, aren't you.
[Relieved of the apple by the animal, Loki takes a better look at him, moving with confidence. After a moment he laughs quietly.]
You could call him Frakki. He seems quite brave.
Unafraid.
Though if you wish to be literal, Varghöss. [He grins, running a hand over the horse's neck.] Gray like the wolf.
Though if you wish to be literal, Varghöss. [He grins, running a hand over the horse's neck.] Gray like the wolf.
[Gregor spends a moment deciding whether or not Loki's the type to name a creature something obscene in another language. He doesn't recognize the language, but he's nearly a thousand years removed from most people here. Either way, the fellow seems to be genuinely happy around the horse--Gregor thinks he can read people well enough to be assured of that--so maybe he's not interested in juvenile jokes.]
Frakki would be easier to pronounce.
Frakki would be easier to pronounce.
I suppose it would.
'tis from an old language. I imagine no one speaks it any longer.
'tis from an old language. I imagine no one speaks it any longer.
Languages don't usually die so much as evolve. Technically, I speak Russian and French, but it's so far removed from anything someone from Russia or France knows that they probably couldn't understand me. [He pulls a sugar cube from a pocket and feeds it to the horse, who tongues it up without hesitation.] Individual words sometimes survive.
Edited 2012-09-26 18:01 (UTC)
It wasn't wearing off. Days ticked by and it still wasn't wearing off. Horror stories of uncorrected Shifts haunted her from when the Kin'corans had been in town; was she going to be stuck like this? A Slayer in Spike's body?
It wasn't fair.
But it also wasn't fair to simply cut everyone off. Not if it didn't look like it was going to be a simple two-day affair. And she'd already missed the birthday party...
So here Buffy stood -- in the wrong skin -- and knocked lightly on Gregor's door. She hugged a wrapped box against her (decidedly now more masculine) chest and dangled a second gift bag from her fingertips. She hoped he was home...o-or maybe she didn't. Maybe she could just leave them outside the door and make a break for it. Maybe she could still do that.
Hesitantly, she leaned down to prop the box up against the doorframe.
It wasn't fair.
But it also wasn't fair to simply cut everyone off. Not if it didn't look like it was going to be a simple two-day affair. And she'd already missed the birthday party...
So here Buffy stood -- in the wrong skin -- and knocked lightly on Gregor's door. She hugged a wrapped box against her (decidedly now more masculine) chest and dangled a second gift bag from her fingertips. She hoped he was home...o-or maybe she didn't. Maybe she could just leave them outside the door and make a break for it. Maybe she could still do that.
Hesitantly, she leaned down to prop the box up against the doorframe.
Surprise writ large on a pale face. She glanced up but didn't yet reach for the box.
"...How'd you know?" Spike hadn't done her the courtesy of explaining who he'd already run into around town. "W-well. I just. I wanted to apologi--"
Now she tried to reach for the box. But now her nuckled smashed against an invisible barrier. Oh, crud. She tried again.
"...How'd you know?" Spike hadn't done her the courtesy of explaining who he'd already run into around town. "W-well. I just. I wanted to apologi--"
Now she tried to reach for the box. But now her nuckled smashed against an invisible barrier. Oh, crud. She tried again.
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