milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

"Ma?"

He walks in, blinking around, a little confused. A small enough child, lame leg trailing behind him as he turns his head this way and that, obviously looking for someone. The cane in his hands is clutched tightly.

"Ma? Ma? Mister Stroker sir? Ma?"

He's starting to think this isn't home.

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"My mother did so, too."

She nods, with a small smile.

He nods.

"They do that."

"So they do."

The smile is slightly sad, but she'll live with it.

"How long do I have to do this before you feel better? Cause I'm not Ma. I don't know."

She laughs, and hugs him a little more, then lets go,

"I feel better now, 'Po, thank you."

He nods, lets go, and nods again.

"Okay. Did I do something funny?"

"No. I'm just a very strange girl."

He nods.

"I figured that one out right off. Mostly cause you tried to give me gold."

"I will get you a room to stay in. I won't be comfortable if I don't."

"You told me you won't be comfortable anyway..."

But like he's going to fight having a room to himself from a lady who wants to give him gold. Gawking is one thing...but he's no idiot.

"But okay. As long as you don't expect me to pay you back."

"Emotionally comfortable, not physically comfortable."

And she nods at him,

"I don't. Its expected, you see. Gods are supposed to take care of people. Even if you aren't dead, you will be some day and that means that someday you'll probably be one of my people."

He blinks.

"You're a goddess of the dead?"

He shrugs.

"Well, worse things to be god of, I guess."

And he'd be clever if he could think of one, but he can't.

"What else would I be a goddess of?"

She tilts her head, and touches gloved fingers to her dead face.

"Manure."

He's a boy who sleeps in the stables. If there's anything more unpleasant...

After a moment she decides that he was commenting on what would be worse, not what she is more likely to be. Then she muses,

"That would be unpleasant. But you could really get back at people who upset you."

"Oh yeah."

She leans back,

"I'd like to see Odin covered in it. He's nasty."

Only one of Loki's children would say something like that.

He nods.

"He's the person who pushed you to make you fall, isn't he?"

Because if he was God of Manure, that's the kinda person he'd go after first.

"Threw me. Not pushed, threw."

She mimes tossing something at the fireplace.

"And he threw Jormundgan, too. I don't know what they did to Fenrir."

He nods.

"Sounds like..."

He looks around and whispers into her ear.

"sounds like an asshole."

And then he leans back and nods sagely. He'd heard that one from one of the merchants at a table the other day.

"Mister Stroker tried to do something like that to me when I was born because of my leg. He was gonna leave me outside..."

A small snicker.

"Then I bit him before he could."

She thinks about it for a moment, then nods,

And part of her is wondering if she's going to be smited. Smote. Whatever.

"Mister Stroker doesn't seem like a very nice person either. I'm glad you bit him."

"He's..."

And he thinks.

"One of those too. Ma and Astel say so all the time when they think I'm not listening."

"Why do they wait until you aren't listening?"

She's heard plenty of Loki's opinions on Odin, after all.

"So I don't think it's okay to say words like...that one."

He doesn't know. When has his mother ever made sense?

"How odd. Its not like you said he was,"

Insert string of Old Norse that would probably make Loki-in-bar reach for soap and Hel's mouth,

"now is it?"