vor | Eighth Cream Cake: [Written/Action/Voice] FORWARD-DATED to the 9th

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Eighth Cream Cake: [Written/Action/Voice] FORWARD-DATED to the 9th

[A week of research was a questionable coping mechanism. It succeeded in keeping him from having to talk to anyone. Also, in keeping him busy. However, a week buried in information brings on a loneliness that makes unchecked depression go rampant.

That's the worst part about it, sometimes. Being so utterly incapable of breaking the ice, of visiting someone and drudging up polite conversation and leaving that loneliness behind. He can't conjure the energy to visit anyone or ask for a visit, but everything is so much worse when he's lonely. Walking that circle is worse than rummaging through page after page of data, wanting to find and yet terrified of finding. He hated it alone in the research rooms, but feared going back to the same cycle, the same circle, as before.

When he comes back, he puts off going back to the flat for as long as possible. He sees to the horses at the stable, introducing the new mare to the others. Horses don't require conversation, but they provide companionship. Gregor is faintly disturbed by that thought, as if working with the horses might be more harmful than therapeutic. He finds himself clutching Babushka's mane in both fists, his face buried in her shoulder, heart pounding with the sudden, dizzy speculation that the one thing that makes him feel happy in this place is poisoned by his own weakness. No. No, no, no, he's not about to start thinking that way. Working with the horses means working with the hands, and that's human interaction. He enjoys that part. There's a premise to it, nothing forced. It's okay. He's being ridiculous about this. Gradually, he releases Babushka's mane. Her placid temperament helps. It's as if she barely noticed.

He should go home and take a shower, but instead he sits in the stable and sends a written message out, filtering it only lazily since it's nothing important.]

[Filtered to Ivan Vorpatril, Buffy Summers, Adele LeBlanc, and everyone who works at the stable or takes lessons - 35% unhackable]

I've come back.
--GVB

[/Filtered.]

[Then, it's anything he can do to keep from going back to that apartment. He knows once he's there, he'll nest in his safe little area and be completely trapped, alone with his own thoughts. So he plunks himself into the coffee shop with a cup of coffee and a cream cake he brought over from the bakery. He should check up on Loki (he has his own problems). He should talk to Nephry (she shouldn't see me like this). Or Molly (neither should she). Or Buffy (no pretending no no no...). Or Adele (nothing she can do). The trouble is that he's not fit to be seen by anyone. There's really nowhere to go but home, is there? Like it or not, he's chained to that place. Heaven forbid he send out a message to any one of them, or even that idiot Ivan, saying, I need help, today is a bad day, I don't care what you do just make sure...

Make sure of what? That he doesn't topple off any more balconies? He knows where death leads here. Everyone does. It would sound so stupid to explain why having one week asleep, one week ushered painlessly by during the wait to go home would be worth a death penalty.

...He needs to talk himself out of thinking that way.

At last, he sends out a voice message.]

The public stables are open, with three horses available to anyone who needs them. Just check them out with the on-duty stable hand.

[After inquiries are responded to, there's nothing to do but go home. Once he is there, he is most likely to curl up on his couch and not answer the door or any messages.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Loki laughs.]

Oh, the Aesir want nothing of me.

And I'm saying that's not much of a loss. [He hesitates, rethinking what he said.] What about your family?

One must have some sort of purpose.

I haven't any.

But this didn't come as a surprise to them. Why would they raise you without wanting you?

[His expression goes still.]

It seems I was to be a political tool to be directed at Jotunheim. Though then I was rendered useless even for that by Thor.

[He smiles thinly.]

Somehow I cannot be upset that I was not given back to the beasts to appease them.

[A slight wince of sympathy. He raises his glass.]

To two political tools?

[Loki raises his glass.]

How disappointing we are.

[A grim smile as he sips.] You said your species has certain...predispositions.

Even better, I was the runt of my litter it seems. Left out to die and be picked up by whoever took pity.

[Gregor tries very hard not to think of what his own father would have done to him if he'd survived. When nights are quiet, that sometimes gets hard. Then he starts wondering what he might do to his own children.

Stop, stop.

Slightly paler, he takes a drink and wishes it were still alcoholic.]

My family has a lot of predispositions as well. [Misery, meet company.]

[There's a certain amount of relief, that the topic is shifting away from Loki. But more than that, he finds himself concerned at Gregor's palor.

He actually does care. It's an interesting feeling.]

What is it, my friend?

[He swallows.] My great-uncle was nicknamed Mad Emperor Yuri. He had almost a hundred of his family members massacred in one night. Vor inbreeding, it...has its drawbacks.

I understand.

I really, really think you do. [Gregor sets his glass down again and sits back.] Thanks to him, I don't have a lot of relatives. And imagining the day I finally snap and finish them all off...

[He looks away, surprised at himself. He hasn't talked to anyone about this.]

[Loki nods slowly.]

This, I understand as well.

[Not the thing about family, but the fear of snapping. Because he knows that it's not a simple thing. It can happen at any time, a world shattering or being turned upside down with a single word or action. There's no saying that it won't happen, no predicting it. He knows how tenuous life is in that way, viscerally.

What startles him most is the urge to hug Gregor, to do something to reassure him of a thing that allows no reassurance. He's not used to feeling that urge, that desire to reach out or offer comfort, particularly not when it's someone over the age of 10. Instinct always tells him those people are not safe.]

It is difficult, never feeling... safe.

[Gregor points eagerly at him.] That. Right there. That's part of it. [His hand drops.] Although some of the people I grew up with actually have me beat in the "youngest assassination attempt survival" category.

[Ivan, for one. Although considering what Gregor knows about Serg, it's entirely possible Gregor has Ivan beat without knowing for sure.]

It isn't about that, though, is it.

It's about not knowing when one's world might break.

Or knowing if you'll be the one making the assassination attempts. Against children.

Do you think that might be in your future, Gregor?

[Even Loki can't quite encompass the idea of killing a child on purpose.]

I don't know. It's in my genes.

We're more than that, are we not? Perhaps the... shift showed that. I didn't anyone. You didn't murder any children.

Yeah. [Maybe he can't use that argument in Loki's favor and not in his own.] Maybe it just...hasn't taken hold yet. Maybe that particular illness is just...lying in wait.

It's possible. Either of us could go at any moment.

[Loki looks down at the floor.]

I've already cracked once. I have no good answers for you, my friend.

You don't have to. I just...needed someone to talk to, I guess.

[Loki hesitates, then reaches forward and rests his hand lightly on Gregor's knee.]

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