It's that lazy stretch between the end of practice and when other things start to appear on schedules for the day, when people wander off or don't at their leisure without feeling too terribly compelled to hurry on the way. Loki has fallen into the Doesn't category today, still seated at the drums after other instruments have been set aside, one drum stick tapping out a slow, inaudible rhythm along the rim of a snare. He stares off at nothing in particular, a small frown lingering on his face while he considers himself to be unobserved. The obligatory cup of coffee sitting on the floor beside him is barely touched.
     The tap, tap, tap of the drum is all in the movement, not in the sound, and a good substitute right now for thought. He's not in the mood for introspection. Inconvenient, with how habitual it is. Easier to deliberately not think of pink elephants than to not get caught up in lines of thought that haven't done him any good, and doubly so without practice to keep him occupied.

     Reggie is in the studio working on edits from today's session. Billy's downstairs raiding the fridge. Maddie -- don't call her the Band's Ornament unless you want to get pinched -- is having lunch with her sister. In the third floor of the terrace, Balthazar Davies is still plugged in, his fingers moving over the electrified strings, an electric riff working around the rhythm that the thoughtful (or it is morose?) drummer is tapping. It is bluesy, coming in and out of that steady tap-tap-tap of Loki's movement, though the drums don't sound...
     When in practice with his mates, Balthazar's taken to singing to them. To facing them and pulling energy this way and that, giving and receiving, binding and embracing and inspiring. Today was particularly intense, ergo Billy's need for refreshments. Then, when doesn't Billy eat?
     Balthazar looks at you as he holds the last reverberating note, halting the sound suddenly and removing the guitar from around his shoulder. He is quiet as he looks at you, pulling up a stool and taking a seat. The Sun is taking a break (new meaning for 'sunbreak'), and he radiates in his relaxation. Amber-cinnamon eyes turn to you, openness in his gaze and on his expression. "Something's on your mind," Balthazar says. "You alright?"
     He knows you're not but it's the polite thing to say...

     "I'm fine," Loki says, because it's the kind of thing one says, and doesn't bother trying to sound very convincing about it. The drumsticks halt, and spin about in his hands, while he doesn't look up from the kit. "More or less. Impending sense of doom, maybe, but who doesn't get one of those now and then?"
     The smile tries to make a joke of it, but it's too brief to work. At least it's a reason for him to meet your eyes.

     Wow...okay...
     "I know you want to be fine," Balthazar smiles a little. "I have an impending sense of doom myself at the moment. Maybe it's contagious. So... what's yours? Maybe we can trade..." The idea seems to tickle him. He has to find some humor in his situation.
     The air cannot help its waver, like a mirage at the height of day, around the periphery of Balthazar's aura. The wings remain folded, invisible, and the golden glow subdued. But it can be felt in warm comfort, seeking to offer that comfort with the room.

     Oh, let's not go into details on this one...
     Loki's head drops slightly, gaze landing on the floor again, and it's almost a lean into that aura. There are times when all this emotional reading is...pleasant. Useful in an entirely selfish way. "All in my head, I think. I'm...bothered by the fact something's bothering me in the first place. Vague, I know, it's just..." He shrugs. "Things keep changing. I'm not always great at handling a switch from the status quo."

     My uncles do like their shell games. Bait and switch...
     Balthazar lifts eyebrows as he follows Loki's logic. Or tries to. "What's that saying? The only constant is change?" He stays where he is, leaning toward his friend and drummer. "You are bothered about being bothered. Perhaps you should simply acknowledge the fact that you are upset, without judging yourself for being upset. It's not very helpful to you..."
     A service of coffee appears from the aether. Not Turkish, but still good -- a nice, rich French roast. "You are pretty hard on yourself..."

     Loki reaches for the coffee promptly. He has his weaknesses, and some of them are terribly obvious. "I know I'm being unreasonable, which should mean that I can stop...taking things too seriously." The corner of his mouth twists for a moment. "Except it's never that easy, is it? Maybe I should just let myself be upset, but it can't be a good habit to indulge in that kind of thing over...unreasonable reasons."
     He sits up straighter and has a sip of coffee to cover some of his own frustration. "What's your impending sense of doom? Anything I can help with?"

     "I'm under pressure to propose to a girl I love but have only known a few months, from two families. And I am becoming a Sun God around the time of Midsummer. I think I might actually spontaneously combust, but I suppose that could happen to anyone." Balthazar says it so lightly, so matter-of-factly, that it could well be taken as a joke. But there's a genuine emotional reaction to what he says -- worry, a little anxiety. "I'm sure there's something I'm forgetting," he says drolly.
     But back to you...
     "If you are upset, then ...yes... you should allow it to be expressed, not repress it. It will only make it worse. You can't ignore or avoid it. So...what do you feel is unreasonable?"

     "Nothing so important as what's going on with you." Loki sits back, looking at you more frankly now. Spontaneously combust? Why did I have to get involved with people where that may be meant literally? He balances the coffee cup on his knee with one hand. "What's involved in becoming a Sun God? Assuming that somewhat more, uh, mortal concerns can probably wait that long, with everything else going on."

     "I wish I knew. I don't. I will have to," he shrugs a little, "...try to be observant and see what is revealed to me, or through me. I'm not really sure what any of it means, or, moreover, what I'm supposed to be doing with it, really. And... it's all a matter of degrees, right? There's no value judgement. Your worries, your upset is as valid as mine, even if mine are unusual. You judge too quickly," he notes quietly. "Your happiness is worthy. Your pain is worthy of being expressed too, Loki."
     Balthazar looks at you, his eyes warm and bright. "You are... worth happiness. But to be happy, you must allow yourself to feel If you cut yourself off, you will stunt your own power, your own potential..."

     Loki lets out a small breath, and spins a drumstick around loosely between his fingers. He'd sooner drop his coffee than that, and isn't likely to lose track of either. "Well, when you put it that way... I know something is true. That doesn't mean I believe it is. And right now what I believe is that, uh, choices I've made mean I've screwed things up. It's not true. Doesn't mean I'm going to stop feeling like it is until I've been proven wrong. Maybe not even then."
     He drops a tap on the cymbal, expression wry. "It sounds even stupider than it feels, and it feels pretty fucking stupid. I'd prefer finding some way to help you with what's coming up to obsessing over this."

     Balthazar smiles. It is a beautiful thing, warm and inviting. "Of course you would. It is easier helping me with my problems, even the weird ones, than your own. That's a universal truth. I appreciate it," Balthazar notes. "All the same." He pauses, parsing out your logic again, slowly. "You know something is true, but you don't believe it. What keeps you from believing it? Whatever it is..."

     "Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon? There's this platform they built at one point, out over the edge. Made of some kind of plastic, I think, but it's completely transparent. So you can walk out on it and look down, and there beneath your feet there's...nothing you can see. Just this sheer drop, and air, and the ground hundreds of feet away." Loki draws a knee loosely to his chest, hanging an arm over it. "You know you're standing on something secure and solid. You can feel it beneath your feet. Thousands of people have walked over this same point, and none of them fell. But every time you look down a part of your brain is screaming that there's nothing there."
     He takes a fortifying swig of coffee. "That's what it feels like. Knowing it's true and believing it just aren't quite in the same place yet."

     Balthazar looks to you. For a moment, there is nothing more than bright and shining compassion, warm in its emotion, generous. He turns upon the stool, glancing this way and then that way, and then he rises. "Here," he says quietly, gently. "Come with me."
     He doesn't say where he is leading you -- what is it with this family? -- but his wake of warmth from the base of your spine to the back of your neck invites you, encourages you, to follow him.
     Out into the hallway...

     It's not entirely the wide-eyed puppy trust that some might show, but Loki follows you readily enough, sliding off the stool from the drum kit and bringing his coffee with him. "It's not like it's anything important," he says, without much conviction.

     When you pass into the hallway behind him, you see, first, the sparks of fire curling from the edges of the wings that extend behind him. And then you notice you're not in the terrace third floor hall anymore but the Grand Duke's private room, the bedroom of the palace you visited once before.
     And like magic -- like magic for that is exactly what it is -- a service of coffee appears. Turkish. Exotic. Rare.
     The wings surround you in a protective arch, and Balthazar drapes an arm around your shoulder. Within you moves Love -- not romantic love, or overtly sexual Pleasure, but Love. Friendship. "Now, we can speak a bit more...well, we don't have to worry about being interrupted at least," he says quietly.
     "It sounds like ...you are afraid you're going to fall. You have to know, I have to tell you," Balthazar says quietly between the two of you in the shelter of his wings, "...I would never let that happen. You are my friend, Loki."

     Without quite meaning to, Loki leans into that touch. It's friendship, and it's like a wall he can trust not to collapse behind him under the pressure. A wall that's much better than most at giving hugs, even...
     "I know you wouldn't. I'm just...having a very hard time thinking that if every time before that I've added two and two, they've made four, they're going to turn into five this time around, no matter how convincing the math someone's shown me." He pours himself coffee with care and attention to every detail of the process. It's easier than thinking about some things. "How do I fix this? I can't figure out how to, to actually trust that things will work out. People, sure, I can trust specific people. I can trust you. I don't really trust..." He can't find the right word for it. "Fate."

     "That is where Faith comes in, I'm afraid," the angel, or whatever he is says softly. Here, in his abode, his changes (ongoing and unfolding) become more obvious. Like the picture in his room, his caramel skin takes on a burnished hue, as if gold leaf were brushed onto his skin. He smells of cinnamon and honey. Thick lined kohl accentuates his eyes, the eyes no longer cinnamon in hue but golden like twin yellow suns.
     He takes a seat upon his bed, his fiery wings stretching out at either side of him -- the wings of flames, not feathers, but yet nothing is burned. "You can't fix it; there is nothing to fix. I struggle with the same things, really. Like... with me... I am afraid that this, all of this, will be too much for Maddie to handle. There is a part of me that is in a panic about it, actually. But... in fact, I do not know how she will or won't handle any of it. I put my trust and my faith in her, and I ... hope. I just hope that it will work out in the end. We all do that. You are not alone in that."
     Balthazar looks at you as you pour yourself a cup of coffee. "You are looking for solid ground. Something true, something consistent that you can trust, believe in. You are wanting security. To know that you are protected, that you are safe, and that you are not alone. I think. If I told you that you have all of that -- security, safety -- what would you say? If I said there were a way to cope with the Fate one has had handed to oneself....because you do have it. You can cope with it by... accepting it. It's here. It's not going anywhere. You cannot go back to what you once were. No more than I can..."

     "I don't especially want to go back at this point." Loki slides you a look at that, exactly as if he'd just confessed to something he should have kept quiet. "But accepting things... It's not really in my nature. Culture. Upbringing. However you want to name it, I'm not very comfortable just leaving things at 'There's nothing I can do to change that.' It doesn't feel right. Faith is...something other people do."
     He takes a seat nearby, staring into his coffee. "That being said, I will cope. Whether or not it's comfortable along the way doesn't really change my ultimate response, only...how much I'm liking it. As problems go, it's not a very big one. Moods, I guess. I'm way too fucking sensitive for my own good."
     The next look your way is far more direct. "Maddie's a lot tougher than I am, in most ways. So she'll cope, when you tell her about all of this. Or show her. I don't know her well enough anymore to say what her reaction is going to be, but she's not going to melt down. It's not what people in her family do."

     Balthazar smiles and it is Dawn. "Even so, I must still have faith. Because I do not know. I can either have faith, or... in the absence of trusting her not to break my heart I can be anxious and miserable. You can't control Fate, or Gwilym, or my other uncles. But you can control how you react, Loki. How much you do or do not like it. Whatever it is. You determine that. Not Fate. Not Gwilym."
     The wings stretch and arch again, one coming quite close to you. The air is electric around him, buzzing against your skin. "Going back is rarely an option. The universe is in constant motion. We must be too."

     Loki draws in a breath of coffee scent and crackling air. Two types of comfort that taste great together. "I don't mean to act all mysterious about the details. It's only too embarrassing to talk about." He quirks a thin smile your way. "Motion's going to happen whatever I think of it. I may as well try to hang on and not fuss over the details. As with many things, easier said than done."

     That elicits laughter, quiet but rich. "Yes, much easier said than done." Leaning back, propped up on the heel of his hands, Balthazar looks at you. "Embarrassed? Why?" The laughter ends in a pulling smile, nothing thin about it. It is full, expressive, and full of summer sunlight. He beams.
     "You are... have been... dancing a little. A lot." He smiles. "Wanting to say something, without saying it..."

     "Embarrassed because I'm spending far too much emotional energy on being upset about--something some minor as getting into bed with someone." Loki focuses on his coffee now, quite intently, with only a slight hint of color in his cheeks. "It's not like the details matter, but who the fuck am I going to talk to about it? It's not like high school, when I knew other guys who'd talk about this kind of thing. Even back then it was half nonsense anyway. I'm not in high school anymore, and I really shouldn't even care enough that it's anything like an, an issue, because it's not, really. It's nothing."

     "If it were really minor, then you wouldn't be upset about it," Balthazar murmurs. It is a gentle sound. When you look back up, he is stretched out on his bed looking at you seriously. "What about the getting into bed or the Someone that is bothering you? You can talk to me, Loki," his voice is soft. He will keep your confidence. "I am your friend, after all."
     Propping his elbow up on the surface of the bed, he rests his head on his hand. Balthazar's wings stretch, spreading warmth throughout the space. It circles around you, envelops you like a blanket.

     "It's more the former than the latter. Every time I end up actually having sex with someone, it fucks things up. No pun intended." Loki pulls a knee up to his chest, still finding the coffee an excellent place to look instead of towards anyone else. Any more blushing and he'll have to die of sheer mortification. "Every single time. The most memorable culminating in criminal charges and my dad paying someone off, let's not go into that one. So when I finally go long with the more or less inevitable and get into bed with Gwi... It feels like the dramatic chord in the movie soundtrack right before the equally inevitable doom appears."
     It would be terribly undignified to curl up inside your wing. He settles for drinking coffee and looking moody. "And it's all so fucking stupid that I feel this way. I'm twenty-one years old. I know that sex is not the end of the world, or even all that amazingly big of a deal in the grand scheme of things."

     The wing is there to be a sheltering comfort -- at least in this context. With you. While you are a bit too far for him to wrap you up, the shifting of its form causes warmth to circle around you again, the air heated and then stirred around you. "I understand," Balthazar says. "I have not struggled with this specifically, personally, but I do know a little something about past actions, past feelings informing the present, creating fear or nervousness. You... have a feeling of insecurity about intimacy," he echoes that back to you, hearing what you have said, "... stemming from one event in particular. You... literally... do not feel safe. And, of course, my uncle Gwilym is not the safest of men. On the surface," Balthazar adds. "The fear is real. It's not stupid, Loki. You have to accept it, before you can move past it. I will say this: just because you have had one or two bad, or even traumatic instances of sex, sacrificing or avoiding intimacy with others -- not just sexually, but true intimacy, doesn't resolve anything. It doesn't help."
     He pauses a moment to think. "What is it that you fear about this intimacy, this level of intimacy with Gwilym? What about that has ignited your older fear?"

     "You're better at this than any of my psychologists were. You have a fall-back career there if the band thing ever stops working." It comes as distant teasing, with half a smile attached. Loki shrugs over another long sip of coffee. "It's not like I'm afraid of anything reasonable. Just...stupid shit. Like he's going to lose interest now that the challenge is gone, or because I'm not any good at it, or just because that's how things usually go. Or...worse."
     "Maybe it's just that the last time I had sex with someone I liked and trusted that much, it went the worst places afterward. There was never anything very important to lose when I got involved with people I barely knew."

     "That's always the case," Balthazar murmurs. "Until you... and Gillian even... and Maddie, I ... I didn't have friends, Loki. I didn't really let people get to know me. It is scary. I am scared all the time that... I will be too strange... or... just too much. I had been with other girls, of course, even had relatively steady girlfriends, but... they never knew me. I never really lowered my guard at all. You are the first friends I've ever had. When Gillian let me down, I was convinced that I was ... well, that I had done something wrong or... was just not good at it." He laughs a little, his caramel-golden skin going roseate with his own embarrassment. "It sounds ridiculous now, but... even with Maddie, I still struggle with it a bit. You know. Being overwhelming. But... choosing not to be involved with people, to care about people... that's not really an option, not really a choice, Loki."
     Balthazar scoots back a bit, the longest edge of his nearest wing waving you to join him. "Fear isn't usually reasonable," he notes quietly. "That's what makes it fearful. But... if it makes you feel better... while I don't know his purpose or motives or plans, Gwilym wouldn't have chosen you to serve him, just to unceremoniously dump you. That's not my uncle's way." The wing lifts, preparing to curl around you. Can you resist the promised comfort? "You were injured once, hurt. Your mind, your brain naturally is trying to protect you, trying to take care of you by making you wary, or anxious. You can thank it for its service. You do not have to be held hostage by it. It is only useful if it truly protects you. But you cannot protect yourself from intimacy, from connecting with others. You will be very lonely if so. And I don't think that's why you are here."

     Loki follows where you beckon, as if it's entirely natural to hang out with a friend in a wing-covered way. No doubt it is, somewhere, even if nowhere that he's known before. "If I really thought he'd abandon me, I wouldn't have agreed to it," he says quietly. "I'm not so entirely overwhelmed by lust that I can't say no if I have a good reason. Even around him." The smile's thin and sharp for a moment. "Or so I like to tell myself. The problem is...back to what I said earlier. Believing what I know to be true."
     "I woke up at home this morning and I just wanted to hide. Not face anyone. Because that way I wouldn't have to think about any of it for a while longer. And at the same time I wanted to find someone I could talk to about this..." He looks to you with that same uneasy smile. "I guess it's a good thing that I had band practice, and that I hate breaking appointments."

     It is natural, and supernatural. There is certainly nothing sensual about it, apart from the senses that are filled with sudden warmth -- warmth of spirit, warmth of flesh. Though large, the wing is light as the properties of air. The flames do not scorch; they don't even hiss. It is an embrace, a hug from the universe to you. I am here, it says.
     "You know it to be true," Balthazar says near your ear. "Listen to it. You know it, so hold onto it. Trust yourself, Loki. Though you are shaken by what happened, by what this means, just... trust yourself. Believe in yourself. You will find it easier to believe and trust others when you can. Not thinking about it," Balthazar grins at you, "...won't make it go away, won't make things any less true."
     From the tips of your toes, to the ends of your hair, there is the feeling of Love. Love in all its forms. And it is with you. It shelters you. It holds you close. "You can always talk to me. I hold the confidences of my friends. I just don't do well with my own confidences." He chuckles a little.

     For a moment, Loki lets his eyes close, and lets himself...feel. It's not ignoring the fretting in his head; it's only letting it be given context by that emotion. Shine a light into a dark and cluttered room, and he may still need to step carefully, but he's less likely to bang into things quite so often.
     "I can talk to you. You have no idea how much that helps." He conveys some of it, nonetheless, in a wry smile, eyes open again. "I wish I could do as much for you."

     Balthazar smiles. "You do, Loki. I've said more tonight than I've said to anyone... well, about myself, anyway. So.... you do. You might not know it when you see it, but you do." He closes his eyes, just feeling. There is a connection there -- it is a free-flow motion from him to you, you to him. You don't have to work to feel what he feels. You don't have to ask. It is there for you.
     Excitement and fear.
     Love and desire.
     Nervousness and dread.
     Contentment...
     And you see against the screen of your Third Eye the pictures that correspond with each of those emotions. Maddie is the root of them all. His joy, his dread. How telling her, showing her can go awry. But in the end, past all of those emotions, all of those images, there is one Truth that he holds onto.
     She loves me.

     It's said with the quiet conviction only a real skeptic can have. "She does." Loki gives his coffee a thoughtful look that's meant for you. "One way or another, it'll work out."

Posted by rowan at May 14, 2009 10:00 AM