Bags were dropped in the foyer immediately and before he could even say Just drop your things anywhere, a full service of Turkish coffee, including date and fig cakes drizzled in honey appear on every hard surface in the living room of 315 Uxbridge Road. Hands rake through thick, dark hair, and it's left standing up in places as he wanders tiredly to the sofa.
     But though he is tired -- nothing like commercial air travel to just suck the air out of one's lungs -- his energy moves around him. Light seems to always find him. Balthazar stretches, stepping out of his dark blue Converse. The blazer is next; the black pinstripe jacket is tossed on a nearby chair, leaving him in indigo-wash jeans and the thin cloth, cobalt tee shirt.
     Thudding on the chair, he rubs his hands over his face, rubs his eyes, and makes one last rake through his hair. "Coffee, manna from heaven. Literally." He pours a cup for himself and one for you. "I'll give you a ride to your place tomorrow. You may as well bunk here. I have three floors I barely use anyway," his mouth curls a smile at the thought, and he reaches over for a fig cake and a piece of warm, buttered, date-stuffed naan.

     Loki's bags hit the floor beside yours, arranged neatly in a row in a way that shouldn't be possible with only two bags. His rumpled jacket's left folded over the bags as he trails towards the best perk of all this supernatural stuff yet. "Oh, good," he says, once the cup's in hand. "I may yet live through this day. I look forward to when this planet finally develops a decent teleportation service."
     He collapses into a nearby chair, eyes lidding as he downs half the cup in one go. "And, thanks. I wasn't looking forward to negotiating public transport from here. I need to spend the next few days hitting the streets to look at a series of flats before week's end, and...I could use a day off my feet. In a place that's not moving." He slouches down further, watching you absently. Nothing specific in the examination beyond the general gravitational influence that kind of energy has on his attention.

     Balthazar smiles -- it is a lazy look that in his own jet-laggedness is unchecked Allure. "Technically, I could have saved us the ride. But we'd already paid for the tickets. Next time, I'll make it a bit easier. On us both. We could have been in our beds hours ago."
     He is quiet for a sip (and another) of the Turkish coffee, his flavored further with cinnamon, hazelnut and cream. You've been quiet for the past half day, but then... so's he. You for reasons you have yet to express; his because he has left his heart in Boston.
     "You're moving out then," Balthazar says as he leans into the corner of the sofa, pocketed in quite comfortably. Brown and goldish eyes rest on you for a bit. "If you need a place to stay for a while, you know until things are a bit more solid, you're welcome to one of the rooms here, Loki. It's no imposition to me. I have five storeys. You'd have your own bathroom. There's even a kitchenette upstairs on the fourth floor." Balthazar looks to his coffee a minute, a smile starting to peek out. "I'd like it if you did, actually. I'm not really used to living alone. It gets really quiet. And I'm quiet anyway but... well, it's here if you'd like it... just so you know..."

     "I'd...ordinarily, I'd take you up on that in an instant," Loki admits. "But I'm not entirely sure how you and Pres under the same roof would go. Especially if Maddie's going to be here too." He sinks lower in his chair, hands wrapped loosely around the coffee cup. It's not so bad, really, to just bask sometimes in that glow and not think about it so much...
     It's with his usual reluctance for prying into the personal lives of others that he follows with, "I assume the two of you talked. Is everything okay on that end? I know he got blindsided by a lot of what came up at that dinner."

     "Sort of. Barely. It was pretty quick. I really didn't intend on any of that. I wanted him to find out from me, personally. I was dreading it, really. I'm a brother of a younger sister. I know how I'd be. And while I apologized and he, on the surface, accepted it... I'm really not sure where we left it or where it stands." Balthazar smirks a bit as he takes another sip. "He didn't much like me from the start anyway."
     His left leg bends, the flat of his socked foot on the surface of the sofa. "You're probably right. Well," he brightens a touch, "...if you need to, don't hesitate you know. I don't mind being the place of last resort." Balthazar chuckles a little at that. "I did manage to talk with Gillian. At least my Battle on the Western Front only has one face. I can deal with that for now."
     He doesn't like it; but he will deal with it.
     Balthazar lowers his leg, foot back on the floor and he leans forward to pour another cup. Hazelnut and cream are added again. "I also didn't want Maddie to hear about the... well, the lord thing from someone other than me. This whole trip went a bit sideways on me," he beams good-humoredly. "She's made me promise not to have anymore secrets. I haven't the slightest idea how to do that, Loki. I mean, the Duke issue. This is easily explained. I have an earthly title. But ... the Other thing? Things...?"

     "As refuges of last resort go, this place rates far above some of my other options." Loki indulges in a brief smirk, and then with far greater enthusiasm, more coffee. His expression smoothes back into thoughtfulness, and lingering fatigue from the trip. "I--think that he'll deal, eventually, but I don't know how fast these things go. No siblings, and it's pretty obvious that makes things different."
     He finally toes his shoes off, one by one, contemplating his coffee as he continues. "There's cultural difference there, too. I don't find the earthly title all that much to make a fuss over, but it's obvious the Wests feel differently. Which makes it harder for me to predict how Maddie will deal with the other things, when she finds out. That, and I haven't really seen her at this age, until just recently. When you've been around. The Maddie of eight years old who loved unicorns and sparkly things would just be thrilled, but it's usually considered...immature, I guess, to keep an interest in those things once you're adult. Definitely to believe in them. Which makes it harder to accept that they're real. So I don't know what the best way, or time, to explain any of that will be. Except on timing, soon is probably good."

     "As I've told my father, there ...really isn't a way to explain it," Balthazar quietly notes. It is with both joy and sadness; with understanding and a real trepidation. "There is not a way to say it that will make sense or make her feel either good or comfortable. It ...simply does not exist. But I'm... really not capable of lying. I can, but it makes me feel so disgusted, so violently ill that I just... would rather do anything but lie to people, particularly people I care about. It would be easier if I could. If I were sly at all, like my uncles."
     "My only chance," Balthazar continues quietly, looking into his coffee, "... is to show her. Let her peek on the other side. I will try to ease her in but..." he looks up, his mouth twitching. "There's only so much easing I can do. I have no expectations. She could accept it. She could run from it. Neither will surprise me."

     "I think she's more likely to accept it than run from it," Loki says, if with a But what do I know? shrug to accompany the statement. "It's strange, but it's a good kind of strange, coming from her direction." He looks up to you with a fractional smile. "I'm just hypothesizing. Sorry. That's not very useful."

     Balthazar laughs a little, "Quite alright. So am I. All I know, for certain, is how I feel about her." And he doesn't have to say it for you to know it. You were right next door to it for a night. He finishes his second cup and pours a third. He is quiet for a time. The wings don't make an appearance but his energy unfurls with a sigh, expanding like the stretching arms of the sun over the horizon.
     Just thinking about her...
     But he isn't selfish with that energy. You feel it hum against your skin, buzz at your ear like a bee. Were he anything other than completely into girls one might well wonder if he were flirting. Well, maybe he is, but if so, it is with the world at large.
     Such is the role of the Oak King...
     He is a narcotic, an aphrodisiac, and a stimulant all in one rather delightful package. Balthazar kicks back on the sofa, sitting in the opposite corner to face you, allowing him to stretch out like a languorous sultan.
     "Enough about my love saga," he smiles. "How are things with you? You are... progressing? You seem more at ease with things. Or... at least... you seem to be rolling with the punches a bit more easily. I could be wrong," Balthazar grins. "You could just be faking it really well..."

     Loki grins, a sideways kind of look that slides back off. Not into unhappiness, but it's not the natural state of his face. "Some of it is that. As they say, fake it until you make it. It's--not easier, exactly, but it works better if I can ignore the doubts and act like this all makes sense, at least for stretches of time. Eventually it'll stick."
     His gaze drops to the coffee, a comforting target of attention in more than one way. "And it's easier to feel good about these things when I'm near you than otherwise." The accompanying shrug is jerky, as awkward as his words are even. "It's like I spend all day walking past people with headphones in, but their music up too loud, so I can make out this constant buzz of different tunes, all overlapping. Not all of it music I like. Around you, it's like someone's turned up good music on a system with a good set of speakers. I don't know if I'm actually getting much better at any of the listening, but it's less frustrating when I'm around you."

     Curious and interesting. Balthazar holds his cup cradled in his hands. You have my uncle's smile. There it was... just briefly. He sips at his mother's coffee, his own mouth twisting in humor. "I'm glad I help. I haven't the slightest idea what I'm doing, so it's good that it's helpful." He is being modest, to a point. While he is not altogether sure of what he is doing, or the purpose (ultimately) that it will serve, he is experimenting with his own power, his own energy, and trying to be, as his father suggested, himself.
     "It is probably a combination," Balthazar smiles finally, "You're getting better and I'm pleasant." Pleasant is a word for it. What he is, is orgasm and afterglow. This is not the primal, mysterious, rutting nature of the universe, that claws its way through the guts of all creatures, but the just pure pleasure, joy, relief and release that comes after one has already given in to all of that. That is who he is. Sex and Candy.
     Really good candy...
     "Do you hear actual music, or thoughts or feelings? I'm not sure, really, what uncle is teaching you. Maybe he's not been very specific..."

     That question gets more thought. "Feelings," Loki says, finally. "Music is just the metaphor. It makes me dislike crowds, because it does feel about as annoying as it sounds when two different tunes that don't match are playing at the same volume in the same room. Except instead of two, it's a few dozen, some places. Concerts are better, because when the music hits the right place, you get most of the people in the room..."
     A hand opens and closes in the air, struggling for the words. There's a dreamy feeling in this room, from sleepiness and from you, that's giving him a poetic turn in words and a much harder time trying to beat concepts into some sort of logical construction. "It turns from dozens of competing melodies to...a dozen people doing improv in the same key. Not everyone is getting the same thing from a given song, but emotions start to, uh, theme. It works about the same way at a really good play, when the audience is all following the same emotional line. I'm awful at actually helping project any emotions yet, even on one person, but you don't need magic to make a whole lot of people feel a certain way."

     "That's very true," Balthazar notes quietly, sipping at the coffee. "Well, it's like interpreting a song, moving it through your own experience, and then expressing it. If you can sell the lyrics, they'll buy the emotion. And they'll be there with you. That's really one of the reasons I've asked Billy to take on more of the guitar work. While I'm a good guitarist, and I like it, I just needed to be able to be free of the anchor and really project myself outward. I was hiding behind the instruments. In some ways, I've been hiding behind the style of the songs themselves, the sort of Croquetter Punk sound. I like the playfulness of it... the sort of upper crust, tea-sipping, party-crasher element... but... we can be more than that. A great deal more..."
     Leaning forward, Balthazar sets the cup aside on the coffee table. He reclines back, one leg bent with the flat of his foot on the sofa; his other stretched out, his heel propped on the floor. "I think... just... open yourself to feeling it and then... really learn how to interpret it. It's like... raw inspiration. You can reach out to people better once you know what they're feeling. You don't have to feel sad if they are sad, or you know... horny if they are horny, but you can be open to it and then use it like fuel... to reach out to them, to guide, to inspire something. Off stage or on stage. It's a gift, empathy. We've talked about that before, right? But maybe think of it in musical terms... like improvisation, like interpretation..."
     And as he is talking to you, he is also advising himself. It's good advice, really.

     Loki's lips twitch at the corners, half hidden behind his coffee. "As long as we're on that metaphor, I keep passing by people on the street whose feelings are out of tune. It makes me want to...retune the instruments. Wave an equally metaphorical tuning fork at them and do 'Once more, in C!' But I'm leery of meddling too much when I don't have context, or a very good grasp yet on what I can do. Easier to focus on the literal music, where I actually understand most of what's going on."
     He rests his head on the back of the sofa, looking up. "I'm trying to open up more. It's...hard. I just..." A moment of silence, and he looks over to you, with a shrug. "Maybe I'm doing some hiding behind things myself, still. I'm not sure how to stop. No literal guitar to put down."

     "You're not the only one," Balthazar says with a smile. "I'm hiding behind a guitar, a dukedom, an earthly castle, and an even bigger unearthly castle." He laughs at that, and at himself. "It's been pointed out to me on several occasions. They say: Be yourself, Balthazar. I am starting to figure out just what that means. It helped, actually, telling you. Maybe telling Madison won't be that difficult."
     What will be difficult is the next week or so. All of the energy is raised; he will have to find somewhere for it to go. Right now, it is spreading through the living room with the warmth of heated honey. Maybe he shouldn't have had four cups of Turkish coffee after all. Balthazar is smiling at this very thought as he settles back in the cushions, his fingers lacing together and resting on his stomach.
     "I think some caution is probably wise when fingering the feelings of others. At least until there is a specific purpose. It's not, really, how we want them to feel that is in any way important but rather what will allow a person to reach their best destiny, to be their best selves possible." He pauses, his smile spreading again, "I'm not your teacher, however. I'm not really sure what Uncle Gwilym has in mind. Or Uncle Aeron. Or Uncle Bran for that matter... but... it will be revealed in time, I'm sure."
     The hum and buzz, the sweetness and warmth. The best kiss. The quiver and twitch of stars being born. "It is hard to be open. Scary to be open, bared, naked to the universe," Balthazar murmurs, "We are all hiding something, behind something. We're all here to help one another hide a little less, shine a little more brightly, I think. I would just say... breathe. Try to worry a little less. No one is going to let you fall, Loki. I'm here. My uncle is here. Your friends are with you. It's not really that scary after all..."

     And it is hard to worry all that much, sitting this near to you. Loki sips coffee slowly, taking in advice and waves of energy both. "I really think you and Maddie are going to be fine, despite the big reveal. After the title and the castle and the band, the otherworldly things are just one more especially complicated detail..."
     He is not falling asleep on the couch, but there's a relaxation beyond the usual going on right there. "I'd rather be over-cautious than the reverse. I'm not sure how to learn more without using that ability, though, so I suppose it means I need to start paying attention to what will help. Maybe that's entirely compatible with stressing over things less." His smile's sharp and bitter, despite the relaxation, warmth, and everything else pushing him towards lazy happiness. "Plus side, I can stop worrying about my dad finding out about things and flipping out over it. One less thing to stress me out. I can still rely on friends, and that's something important."

     "It's a start," Balthazar says quietly, the energy expressed beginning to lull slightly. Extra energy, his own desire, was burned off and like any good nova, it begins to contract. But the residue will linger for hours. "You will have to experiment a bit. I think cautious may be the wrong word. Judicious is maybe better."
     Balthazar looks into seemingly empty space as you mention the name of the Beloved. His mouth curls in Delight. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm making it bigger than it is. She's already had to make a lot of adjustments. She's handled it all brilliantly, gracefully, with maturity, sweetness and good humor. I'm trusting her with my heart, my faith. It's taken me a lot to give that trust. But... I've given it to you both, now. And you're both still around. For all I know, that's what faith is."
     The comforting energy -- well, it is in some ways comforting, in other ways ecstatic -- lingers around you. "Thanks, Loki. I needed to hear that. Hmm... tune into me to practice," Balthazar suggests. "And if you feel me getting sad because I miss her or... agitated, then ... see if you can help me change that..."

     "You wouldn't mind?" Loki struggles a moment to sit up again from the slow slide that's been taking him down his corner of the couch towards a comfortable napping position. "Call it a deal. If I pick up on anything like that from you, I'll see if I can help. I'm not entirely sure what entirely failing to use this correctly works like, but I think the worst that could happen is...nothing happening. Not the equivalent of stabbing someone in the eye through amazingly bad drumming."

     Balthazar chuckles quietly, "That would be amazingly bad drumming."
     It is as good as a charm whispered in the ear and as certain as afterglow: slumber. He closes his eyes, his shoulders working down into the cushions. "A deal. I would shake on it," he mumbles, almost drunkenly (it is a kind of drunkenness) but then he grins. "You probably wouldn't be able to look me in the face for a week if I did..."
     He doesn't explain why. He falls into slumber, smiling.

Posted by rowan at April 28, 2009 08:12 PM