[northern territories, 16th century.]

[changeinasnap]

This far north, hang around long enough and your chances of survival dwindle their way down to zero pretty fast. Nomads wander through every so often, but they're gone quick enough, hastened along by awful dreams and shadows in the dark.

It suits his mood. He dresses up the shadows with sharper teeth than he'd normally allow and lets them do their work, for little reason other than spite and staking his territory. Eventually, travelers learn to avoid his circle of land, and the frozen earth grows silent except for his own breath.

It's perfect, as far as he's concerned.

Comments

[changeinasnap]

"Yeah, well." A loose shrug; his arms stay folded tight as, with effort, he raises his eyes back to Baldur. "Better than nothing."

Better than Odin, but Baldur always was the kindhearted one -- to the point of idiocy, sometimes.

[old_gods]

"I won't tell my father where you are." Baldur tugs his hood back up. "Or any of the others."

(Speaking of kindhearted.)

[changeinasnap]

Another nod -- could be acknowledgment, could be thanks, he's the only one who knows and he's not telling -- before the other side of his mouth quirks up, too, wry and crooked.

"But the kill me on sight threat still stands?"

[old_gods]

"Oh yes." Quite calm. "If you trouble them again."

[changeinasnap]

The grin sharpens back into its perpetual amused smirk. "Just making sure we're on the same page."

He unfolds his arms, making a shooing gesture.

"Okay. Scram. Do something good with your second time around, I don't know."

[old_gods]

"Mock all you wish, Loki," he says resignedly. "But I will."

He turns, leaving pale new grass spreading where his boots rested, and makes his way back up the rise.

[changeinasnap]

Who said I was mocking that time? he almost asks -- but by then, Baldur's halfway up the hill, and it's probably better for them both if he keeps his mouth shut anyway. He looks down at the grass; crouches, after a moment, to rest his fingertips on the thin patch of green. The blades don't crinkle with frost when he touches them.

He probably ought to move back down south pretty soon.

Not now, though. Give it a little longer.

Not yet.