brandingproblem | au shenanigans for icasm

"Aw, what, you don't want me to be an irritating, niggling thought in the back of your mind? Isn't that what I usually am?"

There's no heat to it. Honestly more amused than anything. He pops another strawberry in his mouth and considers his options. Loki could wake himself up, end the dream, go the hell back to sleep. That'd be easier. He doesn't actually want to needlessly interrupt the sleep, though. "Don't most dreams sort of end when they've reached a kind of narrative conclusion? Or, no, you're doing that lucid dreaming thing. You can dream up whatever you want. Sure, we could go to the garden. I was actually...trying to get there, before? And then your library shoved me here instead. Or if you wanted to dream of somewhere else... It's your headspace. What do you want to have happen besides me either fucking you or killing you?"

"I wouldn't know about most dreams," he points out, because sometimes it feels like Clint forgets he's not human and what that means. "I'm familir with my own, and more recently, yours. That encompasses the bulk of what I know on the subject."

This is his dreamscape; he knows that and is, briefly, annoyed that Clint feels the need to remind him. Like Loki isn't trying to... be considerate of the fact that Clint never intended to come here in the first place.

"Nothing in a dream," he says more tired than annoyed, suddenly, and starts walking toward the door that once led to the library. The garden, apparently. it is.

A frown, sharp. Clint doesn't flinch, but he does tighten the robe around himself as he follows. Worries for a moment about the temperature. It had been cold in the library. What of the garden?

"You're telling me you haven't done the dreamhopping thing before me? So this is all new shit to you, too." Loki the magician would still have a much better grasp on all of this than he would, obviously. But it's telling.

And wisely doesn't comment on the rest. Nothing in a dream. Doesn't want to wake up (and have Clint leave) but also only has a few things he really wants out of Clint--which doesn't seem right. That feels a little reductive. Hm.

Tuck that feeling away for later.

"You made a mind palace. That's what the library is, right, a safe place deep inside your mind where you can store a lot of information, arranged in a way that you can easily find it again." Or he's conflating aliens and humans again, whatever. "Why's it cold?"

"Once or twice but in very different circumstances." Less than a dozen times, all told; not nearly enough for Loki to feel that he has any sense of what he's doing, certainly.

There are a lot of things Loki could imagine doing with Clint, here. Sparring or cuddling or reading. Showing him places Clint has never been, places long removed from the fabric of Fate. The problem is that Loki is currently much too fixated on desires unspoken and unrealized. The problem is that it doesn't feel equivalent between the two of them.

The problem is Loki wants, and is annoyed with himself for wanting. Still.

"Because I'm a Frost Giant," Loki explains. Does Clint actually know this? Nate does. Nate asked him once about what it meant to have lost everyone twice when he had to do an assignment about immigrant families for school. But Nate is very good at keeping Loki's secrets.

"Because I'm cold-hearted, perhaps." He glances over his shoulder at Clint before the throws the doors open.

The library, this time, is much more welcoming, much less a place of half-frozen and frightful things. Sure, they still exist there, but they aren't in stark focus at the moment.

"But you don't always need things cold. You don't crank the AC up and turn your place to an ice box." Hm. "But it's still more comfortable for you for things to be colder, huh. Wintertime must be a blast for you. Aside from the usual reasons."

The kids playing in the snow, making forts, throwing snowballs, making angels. Loki occasionally joining in the fun. In the air, from an indistinct Somewhere: children's laughter. It seems so natural a thing that Clint doesn't even find it strange or that he must have done that himself, smiling at the thought, the memory, the sound.

"You're not cold to me."

"I do enjoy it moreso than late summer." Which is when Loki's temper grows its shortest and he spends the most time isolated; being out in the heat in August or September is not his idea of a good time but often is the children's idea of a good time, so sometimes he just suffers through it all anyway.

He almost asks what Clint means by 'the usual reasons' before the laughter causes him to freeze, slightly. Clint is smiling; this is probably his doing, his own capability leaking out of him at the edges.

Loki's not sure if he's upset or excited at the prospect.

"There is an exception that proves every rule." Also, he's a contrary bitch, what do you expect?

"Give me your hand."

And yes, he's gonna come up beside Loki. Wiggles his fingers. Hand, give. Loki could make himself cold here, or as hot as an open flame.

And neither prospect seems to make him mind.

"I don't know that I could dream up anything like this."

Loki stops walking, then, now that Clint is at his side; with a small frown he offers his hand. A little cooler than usual, to the touch, but that's the only real difference.

Once again, why is wondered but unspoken.

"You could if you wanted to."

Nothing special. Just holding hands. Softness that he can offer.

Why? Because. It's a dream. Does there have to be a why?

Clint shakes his head. "I'm too down to earth. Sure, I've seen some wild shit for a human, but this is all...something way beyond me."

"Why do you insist on this falsehood that you're simple," which is not at all what he said, Loki, but it is how it was taken apparently. Loki's hand flexes in Clint's hold but he makes no move to try to let go or pull away; if anything, he's holding a little tighter. "Why does being a no one appeal to you so much when it goes directly against everything you're comfortable with?"

"I didn't say simple," explained simply. Calmly. "I said down to earth. Grounded, not stupid." He knows he's not stupid. Not in any of the ways that matter to what he is and what he does. He's never let a few pieces of official paper stop him from his goals, and he crafts his own trick arrows and gear even if the materials come from somewhere else.

"Once upon a time, I was a spy and an assassin, a covert agent. Being a no one appeals. I disappear. Get to have a cozy family life without worrying about safety. I don't get stopped on the street much more often, and I don't even wear a mask. What is it you think I'm comfortable with? Fame and fortune?"

"No," Loki sighs, shaking his head. They never understand one another in the first two statements, it seems. Or even the first two hundred. "But being 'grounded', down to Earth, merely human is not a thing that determines who and what you are. Instead of wearing these things like a jacket, protection from the elements that would otherwise run roughshod over you due to your past and involvements, you... cling to them as if they were a shield. A shelter. They aren't.

Is the idea of being more, something... different from your common man, on this planet, so very frightening?"

"Why do I get the feeling this isn't about dreams anymore?" It's a rhetorical question, Loki, please do not answer that.

"I'm not different." Is that true? Does he believe that? Clint looks up at the vast and beautiful ceiling, nostrils flaring. Counts to five in his head. "I don't have a suit of armor; I don't have super strength; I don't have an experimental serum running through my veins. I don't call lightning, don't control thunder. I don't fly or shoot magic from my fingers or any of that. I'm just a guy. I'm a common man only made uncommon through means that any other man would be able to accomplish if they put their mind and body to it."

But does that even answer Loki's question? No, it doesn't. At least he realizes this after a moment, centering himself again to Loki. "I don't know if it would be scary, to be something more. I don't think I would want it, though."

He isn't going to answer that, don't worry.

Loki thinks he understands what Clint is getting at, even if it doesn't answer his question immediately. There is something to be said for the person who does what they can merely through the strength of their own bodies, but that ignores the strengths that originate from elsewhere. Like community and resources and secret serums running through the veins.

But that's getting pedantic, perhaps; either way, Loki doesn't say anything about it, despite his clear desire to pontificate on his opinions of Clint's feelings. As per semi-usual.

To ask him what he would do if it happened to him, the way things happen to people all the time, people who don't choose but are chosen by something else, someone else, some other if not necessarily higher power... well that would be showing Loki's hand a little too much, wouldn't it?

Whenever Clint realizes he's different from the rest of humanity, well. Loki will deal with the fallout. Not a moment before.

He realizes they're meandering a little in his thoughts; a problem of traveling in dreams, he knows, and so the demigod takes a breath in, out. The door to outside, to the frozen former gardens of Asgard and several other places Loki has seen in his long life appears before them, swings out and open.

Things are still frozen, but a little less bitingly cold. Clint will know it's cold, but it poses no real risk to him now. "Here we are." That is where they were headed, right?

It won't be too much longer before the realization hits, probably. Better bask in the bliss of not knowing in the time they have.

Loki's silence is...interesting. It's not often that the god chooses not to speak. Because it seems like he disagrees with several of Clint's notions. Maybe he's holding himself back in this dreamscape, or simply doesn't want another argument.

When they step into the garden, yes, he feels the cold, through the robe tied around him, but he also doesn't actually feel it. As dreams do.

"Why?"

Not why are they here. Clint wanted to see it, to be on the other side of the glass that turned to ice. Why this. Why is it this.

One day he will beg and beseech this man to ask detailed questions of him.

Apparently, it is not this day.

As it is, Loki sighs a little at the question; he has not let go of Clint's hand and shows no particular desire to do so. Why here? Clint had wanted to see it, and does Loki know why that is? No.

Why does it exist? Well, that is a 'why' he can imagine being asked by Clint, so that will be the presupposition he runs on at this moment.

"I'm an ice giant; I enjoy when things are cold. I don't like myself; things aren't inclined to grow in hateful soil, I've found. Plus this is a collection of places that are gone, or that I can no longer reach. I like to remember them."

It's true that not much grows but there are still winter flowers and fruits in bloom in this cold garden, with it's snowed over hedges and frozen leaves. They're just tucked away, hidden in the shadows of weeping blood statues and stone benches scattered here and there.

"It seems sad." Which, true, Loki does hate himself. And if this is a collection of mental mementos from places that no longer exist, there would be an air of melancholy. The statues are creepy, but beautiful all the same.

Loki has allowed him here, welcomed him here, so he doesn't feel in any danger. Still, it feels like he shouldn't disturb the peace here.

So he'll be polite. He's learning, bit by bit. "Am I allowed to touch anything?"

"I am often sad, I suppose," Loki admits as though he's never considered the possibility with any certainty (a Lie, if ever there was one). His hold on Clint's hand loosens, a bit, as he considers the request but it's only a heartbeat longer before he lets go completely with a nod.

"Touch whatever you like."

The problem, if a problem exists, is that in the span of not!time it's taken them to get outside Loki has accepted and come to desire even just the idea of Clint rifling through his brain, callused hands touching the spines of the books in the library, etcetera. He could let it become erotic, that sort of desire, and instinctually he wants to, but he's afraid it will bleed through in some uncomfortable way (for Clint) and so instead he allows it just to remain the wanting of a thing, for no particular reason or endgame in sight.

"Nothing will hurt you here."

He has to bite his tongue. It might become clear, through the connection that they share on a subconscious level, and from the look on his face, that he's deeply considering something.

And it's not the wanting. It's that nothing will hurt him, and he's trying to figure out why, exactly, even as he moves with care.

Maybe that's a stupid question. Loki might want and desire pain for himself, has wrapped up the idea of desire in pain, so intrinsically connected to his own self-worth, but he cares about Clint. Who is a little bit more disinclined to pain. (But maybe only a little bit. There is eroticism inherent to violence, especially in situations where things are so emotionally muddled that he barely knows which way is up. What's a little stabbing in the side between partner-enemy-lovers?)

But at the same time, why shouldn't Loki have dangerous things tucked away in his mind and in his dreams, things to protect himself? Why not show off who's in control, or threaten some punishment for the downright childish way Clint had acted before? Why not offer up pain as pleasure in its own right? Where the hell are the boundaries in a place like this?

He brushes a hand overtop the sharply flat cut of a hedge, disturbing the dusting of snow from atop. Toes a looping design on the ground in the white, just to disturb the pristine blanket. Twists off some berries, gives them a squeeze between his fingers, looks at them as though he could possibly identify alien fruit though doesn't dare to eat them just yet. That's what pockets are for, things for later. He approaches a statue and stops before it. Considers keeping his hands to himself, but the distress in the image begs investigation. Reaches a hand up to touch the edge of a jaw, side of a face, a thumb brushing as though to wipe away tears.

"Do you ever let yourself be happy in your dreams?"

"Not... for a very long time."

Childhood? Later. The fall from the lightbridge? Ah, yes, that's about when the possibility of happy dreams were chased out by horrible realities. And even when Loki's dreams have fleeting moments of joy, something changes the tenor, ruins the vibe.

Just like reality, in his experience. Colored and tainted by his own actions, every iota of happiness is merely snowfall in a dirty city, awaiting the shift from white to grey.

Things Loki is aware of, immediately: the conflict of texture between cold stone and Clint's warmer hands against the statue's face. The flavor of the berries in Clint's pocket (tart, like lemons if lemons were more like cherries in texture).

Things Loki is not aware of, as immediately: the way his skin has changed hues, from pale cream to a lighter shade of dusty blue, ritualized hereditary lines rising and falling in his skin like magical tattoos. He's sat down on a stone bench when it occurs to him that the air feels different on what of his skin is exposed, that his own breath no longer pools floating condensation clouds in front of his own mouth.

Uncertain how he feels about it, Loki does nothing to bring Clint's physical awareness to his transformation, but Loki's moment of surprise and then reluctant acceptance can likely be felt nonetheless.

He does become aware of it, as it happens. But Clint doesn't want to draw attention to it right away. Continues his exploration before turning and coming to sit by Loki.

If the appearance startles him in any way, well, then he's suddenly gotten very good at hiding things.

"We don't have to stay here if this upsets you." Clint will do his best not to remind and reiterate that this is, ultimately, Loki's dream, Loki's headspace that he is intruding on. "If you don't want to be this."

The fact that Clint is so rarely a man who possesses what Loki understands guile and deceitfulness to be, it goes a long way that Clint is neither upset nor startled by Loki's transformation. He turns his own hands over, palms up on his thighs, and curls his fingers inward. Even like this, his nails are pristine, clean, strong. Another sign of how unlike his brothers he has ever been, in any direction one could take that.

"I'm not upset." Honest. "I had forgotten it would happen." He's not often here, anymore. They exist, but for him, mostly to be viewed through the window. It's a strange thing, to make a memory within a place of memories, but not wholly unpleasant.

Thanks to the company. "I won't regret it."

"I get that it's complicated." He doesn't know what it's like, obviously, but he can get that it's fucking complicated to be raised as one thing only to find out you are wholly another, an Other thing that is near universally despised in some fashion. "But if you want to be like this around me, it's not gonna scare me off."

Banner turns into a giant green hulking beast with a personality and mind of his own. This is nothing in comparison.

"Why's the statuary like that?"

"It is. But you're unlikely to see another. And it is... me."

Unlike Banner, he does not have the excuse of a strict alter-ego to blame on his poor choices and bad behaviors. But he does feel like there is less baggage in being a creature whose overall look he has so little control over.

As thought it were more honest, by design.

Like that has him furrowing his brow for a moment, trying to place the question and then its answer. "Oh, I saw it once in the gardens of the sultans of Krylor Five. I thought it was beautiful, and fitting. I never learned what caused it, or how they came to be that way. If it were design or chemistry or some other thing."

A shrug. He's always been a melodramatic thing.

"You change your looks all the time when you're out and about." When Loki meets up with the kids, when they're in public, when Loki looks like anyone but himself but makes sure all the Bartons can identify him immediately at a glance. "But obviously it's your looks to do with as you want."

The fact that he thought there might be more explanation to the statues means that maybe, maybe he gives Loki a little too much credit. They are gothic and dramatic and sad, therefore it appeals to him. Of course that's the reasoning, and Clint actually gives a scoffing cough of a laugh about it.

If Loki looks, there in the corner, there might just be a lopsided snowman that wasn't there before.

"Show me more."

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