Summary:Loki finds Fandral in the park. The two walk and talk of ships and books and meeting folk, of invitations and kings. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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In the heart of Greenwich Village lies Washington Square Park, and in the heart of Washington Square Park are a number of chess tables where people can be found through most daylight hours, playing games. However, it's a bit later in the evening, so there aren't many children on the playgrounds, or people playing chess. Instead, there is some music being played by a few people with guitars over on the raised stage area, and there is a Fandral seated on top of one of the chess tables, cross-legged, in his more Asgardian wardrobe that makes him look more Robin Hood than anything else — greens and browns with soft high boots. Most might mistake him for a cosplayer.
Loki does not mistake him for a cosplayer, though…a few Thors occassionally give him pause. Slinking around is his favorite pasttime, and he is dressed in a fine suit with a nice scarf wrapped about his neck. He has his pale hands in his pockets as he approaches one of the warriors three. Loki…has not been here as long as Fandral, and…not as overtly, either. Rumors have swirled about, perhaps, but nothing that would blow his cover to the world at large, just yet. As he nears, his attention grows more rapt, until Fandral is being stared at, really. And then finally, approached. "Do you ever wish you were less talented at everything…so that you could enjoy some of these mortal feats?" he asks of the golden boy, his voice dripping with an edge of playful disdain.
Fandral has been around, and usually is more appropriately dressed for the city, but not tonight. He's been overtly around, and is fairly recognizable when not blending in, but no one seems to be bothering him tonight. Both brows raise at that familiar voice, and he turns to look over at Loki. Of course, he'd felt the staring before the man spoke, but the smile that tugs at his lips only comes when he turns to study him. "Everything, Loki? Coming from you? What mischief has you about this evening?"
"The mischief of seeing you. Your talents are well known across the realms…and have all gone to your fat head?" Loki insults affectionately, followed by a chuckle. He crosses his arms and looks at the musicians. "Lets have a walk…I am in the mood for your company, in the absense of the others."
"Why is everyone calling me fat, lately?" Fandral asks, glancing himself over. "I'm going to have to train more often, at this rate," he says with an amused smile, not seeming to mind the insult, or actually taking it to heart. He slides off the chess table and strolls over to the mischief-maker's side, walking along with him. "So I'm the last resort. You must /truly/ be bored. There's a frightening thought." No one wants a bored Loki about.
Super true. Bored Loki is bad. "You are not the last resort. You mistake my words. I mean…I actually enjoy your company when the others aren't around to take all your attention and friendship. They do not like me so well as you." Loki folds his hands behind his back. "I think its because…dislike takes some effort, and you have better things to do than hate. Am I right?"
Fandral strolls along at Loki's side, one hand resting atop the pommel of his sword lightly, the other gesturing a little bit vaguely, "There are plenty of people I like just fine with whom I occasionally disagree, but our existance is a long one, is it not? And the scales, they tip this way and that." He glances over toward Loki and smiles, "I like you today. Perhaps in a century we'll end up on the opposite side of some other disagreement, but for now, why dislike?"
Loki makes a humming sound. "I like you today." He repeats, apparently enchanted by the odd little quote. "Speaking of boredom…what have you been keeping yourself busy with, at present?"
Fandral smiles, "I'll probably like you tomorrow, too, if that helps," the glimmer in his eyes bright. He turns so that he's walking backward as they go, for several steps, "Last night I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and I met a Dead Girl that I thought was a statue at first, quite avant-garde. Then she spoke, and it turns out that she's quite literally dead, and not at all concerned about it. Baldur showed up, and then there was food and drink. For us, not the girl. She left, though apparently she has no need of feasting, drink, or sex. I told her I'd be glad to have twice as much in her honor." He pauses for a moment, "Perhaps that's why she called me fat…"
Loki lifts a finger. "I only called your head fat. So..you met up with Baldur and a literally dead woman and then ate and had sex? I am not sure I can top any of that, really. I have been trying to…find interesting people though. Like that dead girl you mentioned. And also researching where some of our old toys went. Remember the boat? The little ship model that the dwarves made that could become a large craft? Its here on Midgard somewhere and I want to find it."
"No, there was no sex," Fandral says, "only the observation that the girl requires no sustenance or satisfaction, it seems, and thus didn't join us for the feasting. She did, however, give me a card to her shop, which I will check out at some point." He chuckles, "I've been wandering the various parts of the city that I've not yet visited and running into people here and there, doing much the same." Then one brow raises and he seems intrigued, "Really? Fascinating. I'd wondered where that had gotten off to."
Loki says, "So, then I can count on you for assistance? If you wonder about it, then…you would care to see it back in Asgardian hands. I do not think any of the Midgardians have it, or…if they do, they have it locked away in a vault. The last documentation I have found of its use, so far, is in the late 1300s…when it supposedly sank." Loki pauses in his words for a moment, then says more seriously, "Which could mean its in an underwater horde.""
"Of course," Fandral says with a sidelong grin. "When have you ever known me to shy away from a possible adventure? Besides, this sounds like a challenge. I've never gone looking for treasure on the bottom of an ocean before." He pauses, "Sank in an ocean, yes, not in a tiny pond in tiny form… or in an ocean in tiny form.. which could be significantly more challenging, but no less interesting." It seems that he's in.
Loki rubs his hands together. "It is unclear…the boat /should/ keep to its larger form unless it was given the command to be small again, though…its magical properties would also surely have lured in one of the old ones, maybe a great serpent. Some scrying should give me a better idea. And old maps."
Fandral nods and says, "Well, certainly easier to find a boat sized boat than a toy sized boat." The mention of a great serpent only seems to improve the proposition, "Then I will make sure that my blades are good and sharp when we go to meet it. I haven't fought a great serpent in some time."
Loki bows his head. "Indeed. It should be excellent fun. I am not…currently, staying at the embassy. I have my own place…since you know how father likes to exile from time to time. Its a book shop called Cover Story. You should come by sometime…"
"I had figured you weren't," Fandral says, as they wander along. "I probably would have noticed." Or maybe not, Loki can be sneaksy. Though the mention of the book shop seems to once more pique his curiosity. "I'll definitely have to come by and see it, then. Did you open it recently?"
"Yes. Though…its also under a complicated network of illusions so that the neighbors seem to think its been there longer. Don't worry, I am not altering memory so much as…perspective." Loki smiles faintly.
Fandral gives Loki one of those slightly suspicious sidelong glances, but he doesn't seem to be judging on the issue, at least for now. "What sort of books? Old ones? New ones? Used ones? A mix?" He comes to stop near a tree and leans up against it comfortably.
"Rare…old, but not all of them are highly valuable. It is an elegant and small shop, not meant to actually make money. Finding things for rich or powerful clients will gain me entrance to the finest parties." Loki explains. "Though…nothing could compare to the parties in Asgard's halls, hmmmm?"
"Interesting," Fandral says, his head tilting a little to the side as he considers Loki, then chuckles. "You couldn't gain entrance to the finest parties otherwise? I'm sure there are few parties in New York that you couldn't get into if you wanted to, one way or another. Of course, I've a fondness for home, but I've found ways of entertaining myself here." He'd spent an entire human lifetime in the woods in medieval England, after all, settled down, got married, the whole nine yards.
Loki makes a light gesture. "Yes, I could get in if I wanted to. But, I like being invited by people who have no idea whom they are inviting into their lives." A little mischievious grin follows. "I am going to head back now…but…do come by."
Fandral pulls away from the tree and gives the Prince a bow with a little bit of a flourish before he says, "May the rest of your evening treat you well," and straightens. Then he waits to watch Loki depart for a moment, before turning, himself, and heading back in the direction of the embassy.