Comfortably but not overly full thanks to the lovely Midgard invention known as the waffle, Loki felt like he was acting ever so slightly less when he forced himself to be pleasant to the nurse. He even asked her how he might acquire some paper and a pen of some sort, since that would be necessary for explaining the ideas he had thought of to Soma. The nurse was good enough to briefly take him back to his room so he could pick up the a notebook and a few pens. The quality of the paper and writing instruments was questionable, but anything would do in a pinch
( ... )
Soma entered the Sun Room feeling strangely exhausted. Breakfast had been a pleasant change, there was no denying that, but there was something about talking to Allelujah that drained the energy from her. Keeping her guard up the entire time, waiting for him to try and turn the tables, grew tiring after a while.
You don't have to-- began Marie, but Soma brushed aside the voice in her head as she scanned the room. There was no sign of Lingormr (an unusual name--from one of the northern AEU countries, perhaps? Sweden? Norway?) but she'd given out her own description, so it stood to reason he'd find her quickly. Letting out a soft, thoughtful hum, she took up a position by the wall near the door to wait.
Well, she had said that her looks were distinctive, so he would trust that she was the only one with that combination of hair and eye color. Loki walked over to the woman who had stopped by the door, notebook held in the crook of one elbow. "Soma?" He gave her a polite and pleasant smile. "I am Lingormr." And even though he'd fought habit and not called her lady, he did still bow. Until he knew the common greeting here, it still seemed the polite thing to do.
Soma looked up, offering a small but visible smile and a nod in return, resisting the absurd urge to return the bow or salute or do something equally stupid. Her eyes flicked briefly to the notebook in his arm--if he was new, as he'd said, he was adapting fast.
"Pleased to meet you, Lingormr," she said, stumbling slightly over the pronunciation but grateful that he'd been the one to say it first. "Though I wish it were under better circumstances. Let's find a seat, and then I can answer your questions. Did you just arrive today?"
"I woke this morning prior to breakfast," Loki said. He glanced around the room and located an area where they could sit and be out of the way. And more importantly, out of the earshot of any staff. He indicated the area to Soma with a tilt of his head and walked over to it.
"A young man named Peter gave me the shape of the situation. I understand that we have all apparently been kidnapped across various permutations of space and time by means unknown, and are being held in this facility for unknown but no doubt nefarious ends. Apparently the main focus of most here is to find a means of escape?"
That was the first order of business... to figure out what people were trying to accomplish, since that would give him a framework to fit to and begin to manipulate.
Peter...a young man, so that ruled the nurse out. That would probably be the one she saw pretty often around the bulletin board. One of Scott's friends, if she wasn't mistaken. In any case, Lingormr seemed fairly blasé about the entire business. If he wasn't being sarcastic, he was adapting remarkably well. It was enough to make her wonder where he was from.
"It is, though I don't think we know anyone who's managed it yet." She shook her head. "If you've got anything resembling supernatural powers, you probably realize they've been restricted considerably. That puts a damper on most escape attempts, as far as I can tell."
"Supernatural," Loki repeated. But he reminded himself that was the common Midgard term for anything they didn't really understand. And the other commonly used word was... "Magics?"
He propped one elbow on the arm of his chair, resting his chin in his hand. "So no successful escapes yet that anyone knows of. Are things at all organized? Peter said that were groups that... met up at night. But he wasn't very specific about it. Other than being clear that I... ought to make friends."
"Something like that, yes." Soma watched his face intently--no sign of real disbelief yet, and she wasn't entirely certain how to interpret that. "Powers beyond the ordinary, anyway. Even extraordinary strength and speed count, after a fashion. Do they exist in your world
( ... )
"Magics do, after a fashion," he said. "I don't really possess such skills myself, but have done a fair bit of research into the area." He certainly didn't have access to his magic right now, that was certain. "Among my fellows, I'm quite unremarkable when it comes to arts of a more martial nature, I'm sorry to say
( ... )
"Are you a scholar where you come from, then?" Soma's curiosity was clear. She had never been much of a student herself, but learning about something like magic was a different matter entirely.
Lingormr's admission that he'd always been the odd man out struck a strange chord in her. He seemed a pleasant enough sort; she wondered why he'd been ostracized back home. Choosing for the moment to ignore his curious look--Allelujah was an issue she didn't particularly want to talk about, and certainly not to someone she'd just met--she only nodded slightly in understanding. "I think I know how that feels."
"Yes," Loki said. "I devoted all the time that I could to studying." He smiled crookedly. "My society is -- was, I suppose -- a very martial one. I often couldn't keep up with my peers, and had little interest in doing so." He tilted his head to the side, eyebrow quirking up. "Were you in a similar situation?" He chuckled. "Though I suppose a warrior in a society of scholars would feel just as much the outsider."
Soma didn't smile back. "More of a weapon in a society of warriors."
She said it bluntly, without much emotion. It was difficult to think about the fact that only a year ago, she'd been proud of the fact. "I was created to fight in wars. To be the perfect soldier." A touch of bitterness escaped into her words. She had probably said enough about that. Time to change the subject.
"But you said was," she continued, looking back up at him. "Are you from the past?"
Loki let his smile fall away as he listened, transferring it to a thoughtful frown. "It sounds... difficult," he said. "Though I am having trouble with the concept of a living weapon... is that not the goal warriors struggle to attain? And please, I mean no disrespect with my curiosity." He smiled bitterly. "I've begun to think that perfection is a goal best not attained."
He shrugged. "According to Peter, he is from... 2003. That is quite some time after my departure from Uppsala if I reckon the dates correctly."
Soma hesitated for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. The recent conversation with Allelujah was a little too fresh in her memory for anything resembling an honest or even a coherent answer.
"When I say I was created, I don't mean it as a figure of speech. I was...built. Physically, I have superior reflexes, speed, and strength. Mentally..." That was more complicated. "They gave me a personality. I was trained to follow orders unquestioningly from the beginning. My purpose in life was given to me from the start."
That wasn't precisely a reply; it didn't tell him anything about how she felt about the situation. She fished for something resembling a proper answer and settled for, "But people can change."
2003 sounded about average for most of the patients here. It was also weirdly gratifying to hear she'd guessed right about where he was from. At least, she thought she was right. "There are people from all times here. I'm from 2309 myself. Uppsala...that's northern Europe, right? Norway or...Sweden, I think?"
Loki listened to Soma's story with interest. Such things were possible with magic, of course, but to create an independent and sentient being was... breathtaking. But beyond the wonder of that, he felt a strange stab of something, a little pain in his heart. Because while his own story was unlike Soma's, there was a common thread there, the child raised to be used as a tool. "Did you always know this?" he asked. His tone was still calm and sympathetic, but there was the hint of a ragged edge to it
( ... )
Another pause before Soma shook her head. "I knew I'd been created to fight. I was proud of it. I didn't know that was because they'd also created me to be proud of it."
Now it was her turn to look curious. The way he'd phrased his answer... "You sound like you're speaking from experience. I don't mean to pry, but..."
He was from a very long time ago, then, if it was still being ruled by kings and it was good manners to attach "Lady" to women's names. But at least he was from Earth--that was something, in a place like this. She couldn't help herself; she smiled slightly at the waffle comment. "We get all of our energy from the sun, for one thing." It was probably best to keep things simple. "We use it to power machines, to heat our homes, and...to fight wars, I suppose. Even this must be very different from what you're used to. But you seem to be adapting very well."
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You don't have to-- began Marie, but Soma brushed aside the voice in her head as she scanned the room. There was no sign of Lingormr (an unusual name--from one of the northern AEU countries, perhaps? Sweden? Norway?) but she'd given out her own description, so it stood to reason he'd find her quickly. Letting out a soft, thoughtful hum, she took up a position by the wall near the door to wait.
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"Pleased to meet you, Lingormr," she said, stumbling slightly over the pronunciation but grateful that he'd been the one to say it first. "Though I wish it were under better circumstances. Let's find a seat, and then I can answer your questions. Did you just arrive today?"
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"A young man named Peter gave me the shape of the situation. I understand that we have all apparently been kidnapped across various permutations of space and time by means unknown, and are being held in this facility for unknown but no doubt nefarious ends. Apparently the main focus of most here is to find a means of escape?"
That was the first order of business... to figure out what people were trying to accomplish, since that would give him a framework to fit to and begin to manipulate.
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"It is, though I don't think we know anyone who's managed it yet." She shook her head. "If you've got anything resembling supernatural powers, you probably realize they've been restricted considerably. That puts a damper on most escape attempts, as far as I can tell."
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He propped one elbow on the arm of his chair, resting his chin in his hand. "So no successful escapes yet that anyone knows of. Are things at all organized? Peter said that were groups that... met up at night. But he wasn't very specific about it. Other than being clear that I... ought to make friends."
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Lingormr's admission that he'd always been the odd man out struck a strange chord in her. He seemed a pleasant enough sort; she wondered why he'd been ostracized back home. Choosing for the moment to ignore his curious look--Allelujah was an issue she didn't particularly want to talk about, and certainly not to someone she'd just met--she only nodded slightly in understanding. "I think I know how that feels."
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She said it bluntly, without much emotion. It was difficult to think about the fact that only a year ago, she'd been proud of the fact. "I was created to fight in wars. To be the perfect soldier." A touch of bitterness escaped into her words. She had probably said enough about that. Time to change the subject.
"But you said was," she continued, looking back up at him. "Are you from the past?"
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He shrugged. "According to Peter, he is from... 2003. That is quite some time after my departure from Uppsala if I reckon the dates correctly."
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"When I say I was created, I don't mean it as a figure of speech. I was...built. Physically, I have superior reflexes, speed, and strength. Mentally..." That was more complicated. "They gave me a personality. I was trained to follow orders unquestioningly from the beginning. My purpose in life was given to me from the start."
That wasn't precisely a reply; it didn't tell him anything about how she felt about the situation. She fished for something resembling a proper answer and settled for, "But people can change."
2003 sounded about average for most of the patients here. It was also weirdly gratifying to hear she'd guessed right about where he was from. At least, she thought she was right. "There are people from all times here. I'm from 2309 myself. Uppsala...that's northern Europe, right? Norway or...Sweden, I think?"
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Now it was her turn to look curious. The way he'd phrased his answer... "You sound like you're speaking from experience. I don't mean to pry, but..."
He was from a very long time ago, then, if it was still being ruled by kings and it was good manners to attach "Lady" to women's names. But at least he was from Earth--that was something, in a place like this. She couldn't help herself; she smiled slightly at the waffle comment. "We get all of our energy from the sun, for one thing." It was probably best to keep things simple. "We use it to power machines, to heat our homes, and...to fight wars, I suppose. Even this must be very different from what you're used to. But you seem to be adapting very well."
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