lucetilogs | There'll be trouble when the kidz come out

[When Loki appears, Tony is instantly on his feet. He's already peeled off the armor he'd been wearing previously, but he doesn't care. Let him come. If it was a fight he wanted, he would get one. Just as mortal, as corruptible as the rest of them now.

He doesn't let his fatigue sway him as he watches him, jaw set hard. How dare he come here. How dare he. His whole presence was a mockery of Pepper's suffering, and Tony's heart twists in venomous ways.

But he says nothing.]

[Loki considers just breezing by the man, but decides against it. He pauses, head inclined slightly.]

How fares the lady?

[It's none of his goddamn business. But Tony gives him a painfully honest answer. Maybe it will drive him away. Or maybe that was the whole reason he was here. To see Pepper's suffering tear him apart. He wouldn't put it past him.]

Like hell. [Thanks for asking. But he can't quite get it out.]

[Loki reaches into his pocket and pulls out a book out of his pocket. Wyrd Sisters.]

This provided some small comfort to my younger self before the illness consumed him.

[There's a deeply-embedded reflex to smack the book right out of his hand, and maybe if his words had been different, Tony would have. But this is the first he's heard of little Loki falling to the infection. It's--sickening. He was just a kid. And it's a striking testament.

There was no stopping it, was there. It indiscriminately took lives, warped minds into something beyond horror. He couldn't save her. He couldn't save anyone. That's it.

But he speaks none of this. He only takes the book in hand, and turns to walk away from him.

That's it.]

[Loki considers walking away, then. But there is another point to this. He's observed, already, the suffering of those who have been given the so-called proto-cure. If it were people he actively hated, he would not care, perhaps. Though even he has little stomach for watching unending agony even of his most dire enemies.

For people he somewhat likes, particularly ladies, he finds it most disturbing.]

Lady Saori and I gave my younger self mercy.

I offered that same mercy to Steve Rogers and he refused, to the detriment of others.

[And that too, is a point. Steve Rogers is ultimately the one who did this to Pepper.]

[He stops.

"I offered that same mercy to Steve Rogers and he refused, to the detriment of others."

He knows exactly, par for the goddamn course, which 'others' Loki means.

For a moment, his only physical reaction is his grip tightening to white knuckles on that book. Because Tony is managing his skyrocketing anger at the very implied suggestion in those words. Kill her, kill her as a mercy, release her from the pain, didn't that sound so nice? And maybe once he was done washing the blood off his hands, he could walk out of here a free range target for anyone who wanted to take a shot--

He turns back around, a deliberately cold fury in his eyes, a fixed pretense to cover for his desperate, unwound soul.]

I. Am not. You.

[Loki regards Tony calmly.]

I know.

I am that monster. It is the only kindness I have.

[Does he have to spell it out, this horrible, bloody offer? He doesn't want to kill Pepper Potts, for all that she has been at times a serious annoyance. She has also been shockingly kind to him, and surprisingly fair. He does not like the thought of the lady suffering, because there's one more mortal who is too weak to let go.]

[The words bring unwelcome memories from a week he neglected to think about, because it was meaningless. Meaningless, and yet? Here he was. Tearing open sealed wounds anew.

"What thing am I, Tony?"

"I don't want to be a monster."

And now, a complete ownership of that label. It comes with a sickening irony that isn't lost on him, and something cruel deep inside him makes him want to laugh at the mess of irony that has consumed his life. Of course, he's offering to do the deed. Poor, broken Loki, doling out kindnesses by taking lives that weren't his to take--it's shit, it's a load of shit.]

You will not touch her. You will not even think about it.

[It is not a negotiation.]

[Loki shrugs.]

'tis not a job I have ever desired.

Kindly give the lady my regards. I hope she will not suffer too much from your inability to let go.

[He turns to leave.]

Edited 2012-10-30 07:52 (UTC)

[He was ready to walk away then. They had nothing further to discuss. Tony's position on this would remain unwavering.

But then Loki throws that very thing in his face. His inability to let go. Was that it? He was too weak? Figures. Too weak to protect her, to save her. But--

Pain, she was in so much pain--

--"I am that monster. It is the only kindness I have."

--and watching her tremble because she knows exactly what her body wants and what if there was nothing else, what if there was no cure, how long would she go on like this, how long before someone made the call he wouldn't--

--mercy, mercy, mercy--

--it's my fault, it's my fault and she suffering because of me--

It's pure reflex to that escalating anger and guilt that pushes Tony to grab a fistful of Loki's collar and throw a fist at his face.]

[He probably should have expected that.

He almost did.

But he's so diminished now, so slow and pathetically weak and still not even quite certain how everything feels so muffled and sharp simultaneously. He can't react in time.

Tony's fist hits his face with a resounding crack that Loki barely hears because he's too busy marveling at the sudden influx of pain. Does being human really hurt this much? It must be terrible for them. He can't quite see or hear through it, though he has the presence of mind to raise one hand to protect his face, the other grasping at a dagger that stubbornly refuses to come because, oh, right, no magic.

He fumbles at Tony's wrist with one hand, gripping tightly not as retaliation, but because he's fairly certain if Tony lets go now, he'll just fall over.

The situation is ludicrous on so many levels he can't quite even begin to grasp it. Rather than defending himself or counterattacking he starts to laugh, blood running over his lips.]

[And that sputtering laughter makes Tony almost hit him again, but damn his fist stings, and he doesn't want the blood on his hands. In any sense. This could be called that mark of war that would paint the Avengers as villains in the eyes of those in the village who didn't know better. But he doesn't care. Steve was dead. Pepper was dying. And god knew who else he cared about that was suffering, dying, dead already--

He doesn't care, because he's already losing everything.

Tony wrenches his wrist away, fully prepared to leave it at that.]

[Loki does fall over then, hitting the ground with a muffled scream of pain.

He just lays there, still laughing in weird pained spasms, because that's how he deals with pain, how he's trained himself over the centuries. His elbows are pressed against the ground, hands uselessly clenching and unclenching as he attempts to decide what hurts worse in this moment, his face or his back.

Some far-off part of his mind tells him that he could use this, an unintentional windfall. This is certainly a chance to paint his enemies in a bad light. But over this, something so personal and painful and the hell of it is, he knows exactly why Tony hit him. It's the same reason that he painted streets with blood after he and Saori killed his Younger Self, but moreso, sharper and more terrible.

He could use this, and maybe he will some day. But he wants to keep it private and dark, just like the pain that caused it. Because even in this there can be an advantage.

But that rational part of his mind isn't what drives him to speak next. It's rather the memory of being face-down on a bar, vodka soaking into his hair, and Tony Stark of all people telling him that it will be all right.]

Tony... [His voice is strange and unsteady and choked off with far more pain than a broken nose should produce, thick with blood.] Tony... don't tell anyone, Tony. Don't tell anyone. I shan't either.

Edited 2012-10-30 08:43 (UTC)

[He finds the suggestion almost laughable, if it weren't for the way it is spoken, the way Loki uses his name like he did when--

Maybe that was purposeful. Maybe this was a trap. Maybe he should be broadcasting this, owning it, because yes, he took a swing, and no part of him regretted it--and he wanted everyone to know exactly why. Because Loki dared to take on the visage of mercy, to act as some kind of relief to Tony who was simply too weak to kill her himself. To end her suffering, to end her grief, and maybe part of him agreed. There was no way, ever, that he would do it. He would have none of it. Death wasn't mercy. Not when there was still a chance for a cure. Not when they still had a reason to hope.

And that hope, however small in his despairing heart, was all he had to hold onto. He would not allow for it to be made a mockery of by Loki.

But there was still something in this offer he couldn't write off. He couldn't ignore it. What did Loki have to gain by keeping it a secret? Why, when he could use this to his every advantage?

So he decides to find out, voice thick with something that wasn't blood.]

Why.

[Loki wheezes, another pained laugh coming from his lips, like he's surprised, shocked by how much this hurts.

He tries to collect his somewhat scattered thoughts, trying to ignore the pounding in his head.]

I think... I would have struck me, too.

[Oh, how perfect. That's what it takes, hm? To make a monster look at himself when his worst qualities have come out to play.]

Fancy that. You do have a conscience.

[Could have fooled him. And he doesn't buy it.]

It isn't about conscience. That isn't why you did it.

[Because as far as he's concerned the better act is still to let go.

Loki's laugh is stronger this time. Finally he rolls over to the side, starts to stand, but can't quite stop another sound of pain from sneaking out then.

Adele, he can't help but think, is going to be very angry when she sees his back again. He's not looking forward to this.]

You're right. It isn't.

[He doesn't even move as Loki starts to get up, instead just watching him with caution. He literally could not physically sustain a fight at this point, but he doesn't expect one to be coming. Somehow. Loki just...took it. And said he'd have done the same thing.

God, he doesn't need this. It would be easier if he'd just done the predictable thing and run off to gleefully tell everyone how Tony Stark took the first shot.]

It so rarely is.

[Conscience. The word grates now that he's on his feet. Because oddly, it is conscience that drove Loki to make the offer in the first place, not the he ever expects a bloody human to understand; no, they apparently in love with watching the suffering of those they supposedly care for.

This is unfair, and in the privacy of his own mind, Loki can admit that. That is why he understand the blood flowing from his nose. Were it him in Tony's shoes and, for example, Sif dying, he would have been equally enraged. But he also would have torn out his own heart to give her surcease from pain at the end.

Except don't you always say, that no problem is truly without a solution?

Hel.

Loki straightens as best he can, one hand going to press against his back. He quickly thinks better of it, face going sheet-white. He tries to mask this weakness by patting at his pockets until he finds a handkerchief, which he uses to cautiously blot at his nose.

Conscience. Tony Stark even admits that's not why he did it, but that's the attack he made anyway. Annoying. Humans and their mewling insistence of moral superiority where they truly have none.]

Still do give the lady that book. I care not if you say who it is from.

Edited (Now with more tl;dr :D) 2012-10-31 00:31 (UTC)

[Tony glances vaguely at the book lying spine-up on the floor. He didn't want to take any hand-outs from Loki. Even if in some twisted way, they were well intended. Sorry, Pepper, but I insist on making you suffer in agony, so here, Loki would like you to read this to pass said agony. By the way, he wanted to kill you. Isn't that nice? It was ludicrous. And the cruel sarcasm came from the darkness that was slowly picking away at him.

How long? How long until he broke completely? It seems like only a matter of time now.

He turns to go, with no intention of picking up the book.]

It helps, to read out loud. 'tis a way to pass time. After a certain point they can't turn the pages on their own. [He says this very, very quietly.

And in an oblique way, that makes the book a gift for Tony as well, as a good distraction. Oh well. That wasn't done on purpose.]

Edited 2012-10-31 04:02 (UTC)

[He stops again, but he doesn't return with his fist this time, even if his hand is curling. It's not in rage this time. It's pure desperation. Maybe that would be it--the breaking point. When she was in too much pain to even hold a book.

His shoulders tremble as the thought rips through him. But he doesn't take the book, even still. He could not accept a gift from Loki. Not so directly.

But maybe he would come back for it later. For now, he walks.]

[Most annoyed, Loki waits for Tony to leave, then carefully bends to pick up the book. He dusts it off and finds a nearby windowsill to set it on.

Books deserve to be treated far better than that.

He's in too much pain to stalk off, but he stiff-legs it anyway. The humans, he's concluded are all idiots. And they hide their idiocy with talk of conscience, when it's plain it's grasping selfishness in this situation.

Idiots. And self-righteous Tony Stark just another one of them.

It niggles in the back of his mind, conscience and Tony (fucking) Stark and all of this stupidity and helplessness and oh isn't Loki the monster for offering an ugly favor that they are too much the coward to do themselves.

Fine.

He has a feeling they will like it far less if it is their lives they owe to him rather than their deaths. It's certainly something better to do than contemplating how much his bloody nose hurts thanks to Tony (fucking) Stark and his temper, or wondering when he's going to have to slit Billy's throat, or waiting to see if maybe this time he can make it to the evacuation point in his pathetically weakened state, or any of a thousand other pursuits since he's become so annoyingly frail. His mind isn't diminished. And he's no biologist, but he's still beneath it all a scholar and a magician and the smartest person he's personally ever known - and he's met some smart ones since departing Asgard, thank goodness, so he has a reasonable basis for comparison now.

And really if the stupidity he's seen in Steve Rogers and Tony Stark are any example, he ought to be able to solve this problem while they still flounder, one lobe of his brain tied behind his back.

Fine. Conscience my arse.]

Edited (okay I'm done I promise sorry) 2012-10-31 05:48 (UTC)

There'll be trouble when the kidz come out

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