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[ The Cat looks at Charles' reflection in the mirror as he comes close enough to touch it. There's no reaction, there's no rippling, there's no change. Nothing happens that even remotely calls back to the experience he'd had earlier, of his consciousness being plucked up and evenly placed somewhere else, in the midst of Charles' memories.
Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe it was some dormant Cat King ability coming to fruition after hundreds of years. Or maybe there really is something in the mirror system acting out. This is magic he knows very little about, and that - more than anything - makes him nod when Charles suggests moving the thing. ]
I dunno why I keep it here anyway.
[ He says, immediately tasting sourness on his tongue at the barefaced lie. He kept it there on the off chance that Edwin or Charles might hop through it someday, might see reason enough to come visit or ask for his assistance with something. He kept it there out of hope, and as a reminder. And that reality rests heavy on his mind as he raises a hand with the intention to summon a burst of flame and disappear the mirror from sight.
In the mean time, perhaps in an effort to delay or halt the Cat King's efforts of hiding it, the mirror ripples rather violently and springs forth a memory completely unbeknownst to the monarch.
In it, the Cat - looking somewhat different than he does now, with pale brown hair and rather archaic looking clothing - is peering into an ornate balcony window covered with a gauzy curtain, at a beautiful woman with pale skin and dark hair twisted up into a high knot on her head as she sits by a dressing table, nodding minutely to a man in her doorway. Only when he leaves and shuts the door behind him does the Cat enter, and she receives him delighted, pressing a kiss to his cheek, taking his hand and holding his fingers tight. But her smile falters as his does, as he tells her this has to be the last time, that he can't stand in the way of her future, her duty, that she has to marry her betrothed and that running away together is impossible. The princess scowls, shaking her head, and the Cat's heart breaks to see her unhappy, even as he reminds her of who - what - he is, that he can't give her what she wants.
The image flickers. The hand holding hers never changes, but hers seems to wither in his; snapshots of times throughout her life when he saw her, unable to leave her completely, always finding himself at her side around the time of her birthday, there the day after the birth of her first child and the three that followed, there for her when she buried her youngest when he didn't survive the war that wrecked her country, when her husband the King made foolish and selfish decisions that benefited the few rather than the many. He was there, too, when the physician told her her time was limited, and he was there in a moment of blissful peace, like a young and beautiful spectre, when her hair had turned white and her heart began to fail from one too many breaks. He kissed her then, softly on the hand as he always had, and told her he loved her. He didn't see her die, but there was a pale brown tabby asleep at her graveside for weeks - perhaps even months - afterwards. ]
Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe it was some dormant Cat King ability coming to fruition after hundreds of years. Or maybe there really is something in the mirror system acting out. This is magic he knows very little about, and that - more than anything - makes him nod when Charles suggests moving the thing. ]
I dunno why I keep it here anyway.
[ He says, immediately tasting sourness on his tongue at the barefaced lie. He kept it there on the off chance that Edwin or Charles might hop through it someday, might see reason enough to come visit or ask for his assistance with something. He kept it there out of hope, and as a reminder. And that reality rests heavy on his mind as he raises a hand with the intention to summon a burst of flame and disappear the mirror from sight.
In the mean time, perhaps in an effort to delay or halt the Cat King's efforts of hiding it, the mirror ripples rather violently and springs forth a memory completely unbeknownst to the monarch.
In it, the Cat - looking somewhat different than he does now, with pale brown hair and rather archaic looking clothing - is peering into an ornate balcony window covered with a gauzy curtain, at a beautiful woman with pale skin and dark hair twisted up into a high knot on her head as she sits by a dressing table, nodding minutely to a man in her doorway. Only when he leaves and shuts the door behind him does the Cat enter, and she receives him delighted, pressing a kiss to his cheek, taking his hand and holding his fingers tight. But her smile falters as his does, as he tells her this has to be the last time, that he can't stand in the way of her future, her duty, that she has to marry her betrothed and that running away together is impossible. The princess scowls, shaking her head, and the Cat's heart breaks to see her unhappy, even as he reminds her of who - what - he is, that he can't give her what she wants.
The image flickers. The hand holding hers never changes, but hers seems to wither in his; snapshots of times throughout her life when he saw her, unable to leave her completely, always finding himself at her side around the time of her birthday, there the day after the birth of her first child and the three that followed, there for her when she buried her youngest when he didn't survive the war that wrecked her country, when her husband the King made foolish and selfish decisions that benefited the few rather than the many. He was there, too, when the physician told her her time was limited, and he was there in a moment of blissful peace, like a young and beautiful spectre, when her hair had turned white and her heart began to fail from one too many breaks. He kissed her then, softly on the hand as he always had, and told her he loved her. He didn't see her die, but there was a pale brown tabby asleep at her graveside for weeks - perhaps even months - afterwards. ]
Several things are happening at once, and they're all unusual enough that Loki is taking a few seconds to process them all. First, it's exceedingly weird for a summoning circle to pull two people in. Second, the entity sharing his space appears to be a teenager--though, perhaps not one who is currently alive.
"More than a little inconsiderate," he agrees with the ghostly youth, looking at him as if he's never seen anything like him before.
Third: their summoner not only recognizes the boy but seems annoyed to see him. From the shop? "I see you two have a history. I would hate to interfere with whatever discussion you're about to have. I could just see myself out?"
He knows better. Seems like Loki himself was the real target here, and while he's no hero, he's disinclined to just leave some kid in the lurch, even if said kid seems remarkably calm about all this.
"Although, actually, I'm curious to hear you out, now," he says to the wizard. "I'm not sure whether you're exceptionally powerful or exceptionally incompetent, having dragged two people into one spell."
"More than a little inconsiderate," he agrees with the ghostly youth, looking at him as if he's never seen anything like him before.
Third: their summoner not only recognizes the boy but seems annoyed to see him. From the shop? "I see you two have a history. I would hate to interfere with whatever discussion you're about to have. I could just see myself out?"
He knows better. Seems like Loki himself was the real target here, and while he's no hero, he's disinclined to just leave some kid in the lurch, even if said kid seems remarkably calm about all this.
"Although, actually, I'm curious to hear you out, now," he says to the wizard. "I'm not sure whether you're exceptionally powerful or exceptionally incompetent, having dragged two people into one spell."
It's alright Loki, it's a lot to deal with at once. And honestly, this isn't the first time Charles has been caught in some sort of trap or magic circle before!
"It was only supposed to summon you!" The wizard protested, looking from Loki to Charles as if the secret to why could be gleaned there before his gaze snapped to his book again, skimming over the ritual. "So I could bargain for a boon!"
"My vote's for incompetent," Charles replied easily, brows lifting at that complaint from the wizard, his gaze on Loki now curiously assessing. "A right git too- did you know he's been snatching homeless kids for his shitty immortality spells? S'what's got me and Edwin on him."
"It was only supposed to summon you!" The wizard protested, looking from Loki to Charles as if the secret to why could be gleaned there before his gaze snapped to his book again, skimming over the ritual. "So I could bargain for a boon!"
"My vote's for incompetent," Charles replied easily, brows lifting at that complaint from the wizard, his gaze on Loki now curiously assessing. "A right git too- did you know he's been snatching homeless kids for his shitty immortality spells? S'what's got me and Edwin on him."
"Honestly, if you wanted a boon, trapping someone in a circle isn't usually the best way to make nice. Points for audacity, though."
And actually? He'd be willing to have the chat just on that basis. It takes some balls to summon a notoriously unreliable god to do your bidding. Unfortunately for the sorcerer, Loki's interest in being pleasant stops where harming random homeless children starts.
"Snatching as in catching and killing?" His gaze refocuses on Charles, and any mirth that was there before is gone.
And actually? He'd be willing to have the chat just on that basis. It takes some balls to summon a notoriously unreliable god to do your bidding. Unfortunately for the sorcerer, Loki's interest in being pleasant stops where harming random homeless children starts.
"Snatching as in catching and killing?" His gaze refocuses on Charles, and any mirth that was there before is gone.
Oh, did the other not like that? Charles wasn't sure what the man had been trying to summon, whether some Fae creature, spirit, or even demon, (that he had been trying to and succeeded in hooking a god hadn't yet occurred to him) it seemed that his fellow captive in the circle was as displeased with the idea of the wizard's extracurriculars as he was.
A sharp nod offered at the question, brows furrowing as he pointed out the amulet held tight in the man's off hand, pulsing with a sickly-feeling sort of energy and the strain of many spirits trying to find a way free. "Been killin' 'em and trappin' their spirits in that nasty bit of kit before Death could show up to help the poor mites move on."
A sharp nod offered at the question, brows furrowing as he pointed out the amulet held tight in the man's off hand, pulsing with a sickly-feeling sort of energy and the strain of many spirits trying to find a way free. "Been killin' 'em and trappin' their spirits in that nasty bit of kit before Death could show up to help the poor mites move on."
Loki doesn't consider himself particularly ethical, but there are a few lines he doesn't care to cross. Dead children are one of them. Trapping the spirits of murdered children is even worse.
His gaze flicks across the room to where the amulet rests in the sorcerer's hand, then up to the man's face. "That's not how it works," he says quietly. "You can't sacrifice something that isn't yours to give. You may get someone who'll take it, but whatever they offer you back won't last."
"You might make it out of this with your soul intact if you back down now, and let those spirits go. Otherwise, there are entities with a greater sense of justice than me, and they will find you."
The temperature in the room around them is dropping, which is about the only magic Loki can pull off without finding a breach in the summoning circle. It could still be enough to rattle the man or make him drop the amulet, though.
His gaze flicks across the room to where the amulet rests in the sorcerer's hand, then up to the man's face. "That's not how it works," he says quietly. "You can't sacrifice something that isn't yours to give. You may get someone who'll take it, but whatever they offer you back won't last."
"You might make it out of this with your soul intact if you back down now, and let those spirits go. Otherwise, there are entities with a greater sense of justice than me, and they will find you."
The temperature in the room around them is dropping, which is about the only magic Loki can pull off without finding a breach in the summoning circle. It could still be enough to rattle the man or make him drop the amulet, though.
Charles at least felt slightly better that whatever the man had been planning to try and convince his fellow captive in the circle to do? It seemed he wasn't likely to play along with the plot here if that response was any hint. And while he might be a ghost and thus can't typically feel things like temperature, the method of his own death, and the magic source of the chill here had it nipping at him too, even as the sorcerer's breath fogged the air. Which was only partly because of Loki, and partly because of the ghostly teen who prowled along the edges of the circle, dark eyes flicking intently over the runes etched into the floorboards.
"I'd listen to him, he's definitely got the right idea," Charles mused, glancing towards the wizard who was flipping pages with a more irritated air, masking whatever fright had him paling, had his pulse jumping along with a muscle along his jaw as the dropping temperature had hands shaking over vellum. "Whatever's willin' to trade for what you've got? Never ends well."
"I'd listen to him, he's definitely got the right idea," Charles mused, glancing towards the wizard who was flipping pages with a more irritated air, masking whatever fright had him paling, had his pulse jumping along with a muscle along his jaw as the dropping temperature had hands shaking over vellum. "Whatever's willin' to trade for what you've got? Never ends well."
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