smartass_captain | Growing Shadows (open thread, tagging boldygoing for sure)

Hey, when you see this give me a reply. We need to meet up somewhere and--"

Talk. But how likely was the younger Jim to reply if he said that? Pretty likely but he'd be anxious as fuck over it. They never asked like that. He tries again.

--and play some chess. Getting my ass handed to me last time isn't sitting well.

In contrast to his older counterpart, Jim has been doing quite a bit better, since his recent heart-to-heart with Hunter. Crisis averted, at least for now, and duty has kept him busy during the rest of his waking hours. He's finally settling into a routine that feels right, even if he's still trying to figure out how to balance Starfleet and his personal time in a way that'll work long-term.

The message comes in towards the end of his shift, in the middle of signing off on some reports, and no one on the bridge gives the captain a second look when he sends a message back, reining in his curiosity. Sure, I should be free in an hour. Your place or mine?

Jim looks around his apartment with a sigh before getting up and making sure there's nothing that could be a Problem laying around the place. With no reality breaking information just laying around for anyone to stumble across Jim locks his apartment and sends a set of coordinates to his younger counterpart.

Mine. I don't think I can handle being on the ship right now.

That's... certainly fair enough. But Jim knows better than to think this is just a friendly get-together, not if there's chess involved. This could be anything from relationship troubles to end-of-the-world shit, though, so he's not going to freak out until he knows just how bad this is.

He sends back a brief agreement, and as soon as his shift is over and he's in the privacy of his own quarters, he PINpoints to the new coordinates, unsure what to expect but unconsciously bracing himself.

The windows are all opaqued so Jim won't be able to see outside at the majesty that is Yorktown but he'll feel the simulated gravity all the same the second he touches down in the entryway to his older companion's apartment. Yorktown's architecture is very Starfleet Basic in most cases, which makes sense because it is a base. The apartment might remind Jim more of the Academy dorms (just bigger) than his place in San Francisco.

Furniture's all the bare minimum, though there are a few special additions littered atop it. Stacks of leatherbound tomes that no doubt come from Nirn are stacked on one of the side tables as well as a satchel that smells ever so faintly of pine needles and something earthy. Dried mushrooms, perhaps?

The captain's in his new civvy clothes pulling brand new pieces out of a box. Nothing fancy--definitely something Jim bought off the shelf literally today so they'd have a set to play with. Nothing at all like the old set Jim sued to have or the one his counterpart owns. He'll have to splurge on a good set soon, but there was no time for that today. Seems like he only just realized he didn't have a chess set anymore. Jim looks up from the box when he hears his bearded companion arrive.

"Take a seat, coffee table or dining table. Either's fine." He doesn't seem to have much prepared yet.

It's funny how used to noise the human ear can be, until suddenly it's gone. The absence of the floor rumbling with the faint noise of warp engines stands out to Jim the moment he sets foot in the apartment, even moreso than the architecture and the blacked out windows, jarring like thinking there's one more step on a flight of stairs than there really is. He pauses a moment to get his bearings, the relative silence weighing down on him before he hears that familiar voice, and the set of his shoulders relaxes a fraction.

The newness of the chess set doesn't escape his notice, but he doesn't remark on it, either. Part of Operation Don't Ask is not poking at the obvious aftermath, too. "Coffee table's fine with me." He's still looking around a bit as he finds a comfortable spot to sit, though, taking note of the few personal touches sitting out in the open. It's damn near as sparsely decorated as his apartment back in San Francisco was, after he'd first moved in.

"Had too much work to do to worry much about decorations, and I sort of thought this wouldn't have lasted as long as it has."

Jim brings everything over to the coffee table and moves aside the stack of data pads and actual paper notebooks Felix has been using for his studies while he tries to learn up on the basics of Jim's world, culture, and Starfleet. "Coffee's ready, hold up."

Just give him a second to set up the board before he goes to fetch drinks and drag a chair over to the other side of the coffee table with Jim sitting on the couch like he is.

"How's the ship?"

"Yeah, I getcha." There's a reason Jim's made a lifelong habit of traveling light, more than one actually, and that's two of them right there. Easier to grab everything and go in a hurry, too; no need to spend hours packing stuff he doesn't really need. Though he can't deny that there's something weirdly nice about finding someplace to put gifts from Hunter, in his own quarters, even if those are building up alarmingly fast sometimes.

He watches the other captain puttering around, trying to get a feel for his mood without making it too obvious he's doing it, a subtlety that's probably completely wasted, to be honest. But if talking shop helps take the edge off, then he's more than content to do so. "She's still running like a dream. We just wrapped up the survey on the Talgus system; Astronomy should have enough data to keep everyone busy for a month, never mind the probes we left to keep an eye on those solar flares."

There's no hiding that Jim's clearly Shaken over something. It's read in every disorganized inefficient action he's taking while he was getting their area ready. How he wasn't prepared for the game at all and had to go get a board almost as an afterthought. Something big is on his mind and it's definitely bugging him enough to throw him off of his habits.

When Jim finally sits down he's sure to slide a mug over to his companion without prompting before he burns his mouth with his own coffee and pulls the mug away with a swear before he sets it down.

"It's hot." No shit, Kirk, you just grabbed the finished pot. "That's good. Steady work keeps folks happy and..." He turns the board so that white is facing the younger companion, then frowns. Is that right? He doesn't remember whose turn it was.

Jim's starting to get a little alarmed. Something is up, and it's serious enough to rattle the hell out of the other guy, enough to pale his face by a couple shades. Is somebody dead? No, can't be, his companion couldn't tell him if that was the case, right? Unless it's Felix. But... no, as hard as he's fought to bury the memories, he knows how the other Kirk would behave if he thought the mage was dead.

What the hell is going on?

He's aware that he's probably staring, holding his mug up to his lips without drinking it, an endless litany of possibilities nagging at him and none of them seeming to fit. It's on the tip of his tongue to just break the rules and ask, but instead he says, "I think it's your turn to be white." Even if it isn't, the other guy looks like he needs the advantage more, right now.

"Right, right."

The board is spun round so that white is facing the older captain. He wastes no time in making his opening move either. Whether it's a plan he's had in mind or just impatience is anyone's guess at this juncture. Though he does so nearly pick up his coffee to sip at it again, only stopping when the younger captain quietly reminds him that it's still very hot. Jim looks down at the mug and sets it down with a nod. He knows. He knew that.

Jim won't stop fidgeting.

The game between them is erratic and frustrating to follow. Every time the younger captain seems like he's catching his jittery older counterpart there seems to be a change in direction and strategy. As if Jim's focus is coming in fits and bursts and desperate not to lose despite so clearly having something he wants to say. Tiber bats at the little strips of napkin Jim has been ripping squares off of while they play and rolling it between his fingers just to have something for his hands to do. In all honesty he's rubbed the back of his hands raw and red already so this is likely to stop him from doing that even more.

The whole time the older captain says very little. His small talk has consisted of answering remarks his companion makes, though sometimes it take multiple times repeating before he seems to hear it.

Illogical, unpredictable play styles are one thing. This... this is something else. It’s like his older companion is only there half the time, and Jim has never had a harder time trying to read him, to figure out why. In contrast to the constant twitching across the table, Jim tenses more and more as the game plays on, restrained like he’s waiting for the shit to hit the fan while he’s got no clue just how bad it’s going to be. If this was supposed to help blow off some steam, it’s clearly failing.

It’s near impossible to set up any kind of winning strategy against this kind of random pattern, but neither is the other captain pressing the advantage like he should. Minutes tick away as the pieces on the board dwindle, reducing chances of a clear victory even further until it becomes obvious neither of them is coming out on top.

Jim’s coffee is damn near forgotten, slowly cooling on the table at his elbow, barely touched. He picks it up again and grimaces a little when he takes a sip, though it has little to do with the lukewarm bitterness of it.

"...Fuck."

The older captain's hair has become a wreck the longer this goes on with how often he's drug his hands through it either absently or actively while he was trying to think. He's reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose now in a small attempt to alleviate the headache blossoming a pressure throughout his entire skull. This isn't working. It's not helping.

If anything, it's only trapped him into sitting here and thinking about it without the luxury of being able or made to speak.

"God fucking dammit. Why can't this shit ever just be easy?"

Edited 2018-10-08 18:46 (UTC)

Not helping is putting it mildly. In true Jim Kirk fashion, it’s time to break the rules. Because this is getting them nowhere, and if anything, the other guy is even more wound up than he was when Jim got here.

Jim sets down his mug again, the ceramic solidly thunking against the table like a gavel. “What the hell happened?” Sure, it’s not his turn, but if they have to go through another round, his companion might just work himself into an aneurysm or something.

"I think there's something going on in the Nexus."

It's out of his mouth before the younger companion's nearly finished asking and even Jim is startled at how paper thin his patience was becoming during their match. His blue eyes are troubled. Suspicious when they raise form the board and meet his younger counterpart. "I called you here to warn you but it's...it's so messed up and--"

Embarrassing. Here Jim thought he didn't have shame in him but looks like he was wrong as usual.

"I met a guy who is literally all of our hangups. My hangups, at least. In one body."

Jim is thoroughly confused but no less alert, watching the other with a cautious intensity, struggling to make the pieces fit into something that makes more sense. This time of year, just the thought of something going wrong in the Nexus makes his mouth run dry. They should probably be drinking something a lot stronger than coffee, even if only one of them’d get the benefit of it.

Please don’t let this be another tailor-made nightmare in the making. It shouldn’t be, but... There’s a small tremor in his hands, and he clasps them together to hide it. “Who?”

"That's the thing, it doesn't make sense. There's a god in the Nexus. And yeah, I know. 'God' or whatever you want to call him. Claims to be Thor, like the old Norse god right? Okay except he's like..."

Jim struggles for a moment to describe Thor in appearance because nothing that he can say won't sound every kind of creepy because of the Worst part of it. He shakes his head several times.

"He's the literal definition of Perfect Masculine Idealism." Okay, other Jim might be allowed to start getting mad or at least ready to tease his older counterpart's fragile ego and vanity mercilessly but Jim's not done.

"He's got George's face though."

Okay, no, still not making sense. Jim’s expression is blank as the other captain rambles something about Norse gods and how many muscles this Thor guy must have, and honestly, if it wasn’t for how fucking upset the other guy is, Jim might be tempted to needle him a bit. But Jim Kirk doesn’t get worked up like this over petty shit, and it’s not until that last sentence sinks in that it all clicks.

For one incredibly stupid moment, he wants to ask, “George who?” But his stomach’s already dropped right down into his boots as he realizes there’s only one George that would freak out his counterpart this badly.

“...you’re fucking kidding.” Of course he isn’t. This isn’t the sort of thing they joke about, not now, not ever.

"Like a fucking horrific twin."

The headache's back in full force and Jim's trying to stem it as best he can. It's been eating at him for days now. It's bad enough that the guy is the walking embodiment of all Jim's most vain hangups but to look exactly like their father? And to be some kind of fucking god?

"He seems decent? Personality wise? He's got no idea who I am. So I don't...it feels like some Nexus thing designed to screw with us. Or maybe just me I don't even know or care at this point. But I needed to warn you before you ran into him."

God, Jim hasn't even seen the guy yet but his imagination's hard at work to fill in the gaps. No fucking wonder the other guy looks like he's three seconds from the mother of all migraines.

"God fucking dammit."

Jim can't decide if that's better or worse than if their actual father showed up in the Nexus someday. With all the time travel bullshit and alternate universes crossing paths there, the odds are far higher than he'd like, even if it never once occurred to him that it was an option at all, until just now.

...how buff is this Thor guy, anyway? Never mind, he does not want to know. Might not have the final say in that, but whatever.

Jim leans forward and scrubs his hands over his face, trying to soak all this in. "Ugh, thanks. I just... don't know what the hell." To think, to say, take your pick. But better forewarned than stumbling into it blindly, unlike his unlucky double.

"It's not him. That's...thank every fucking one of Felix's gods it's not George Kirk."

Jim couldn't take that. He's also had to come to the unfortunate realization that their father could one day stumble into this place from one of infinite times. This god, wherever he comes from, isn't somehow a deified George Kirk and Jim will have to take what little solace he can in that. His father's shadow stretches far enough without adding 'god' to that list.

"I didn't realize it right away. He's missing an eye so he's got this patch thing. I'm guessing gods don't have proper medical staff for that kind of shit. But I swear the second he turned his head I thought I had finally lost my fucking mind."

Jim has seen some shit in his life. He'd be a bit embarrassed if this was the thing that broke him.It's just so weird.

"Missing an... okay." This is getting weirder and weirder in his mind's eye, and god only knows if he's anywhere close to the truth but it's disturbing as hell to picture. Just the idea that someone's out there walking around wearing his dead father's face alone is probably going to haunt him when he goes to bed tonight, and it's anyone's guess whether it'd be better or worse if he'd actually seen the man.

"...you're sure we shouldn't be drinking something stronger for this?" It's times like these that Jim really regrets some of his life decisions, and not being able to get drunk is at the top of the list. But for his companion's sake, maybe coffee isn't quite going to get the job done.

"No, I do not want to be drunk for this."

The last thing Jim wants is to start fixating on how ripped the god was, how he'll never look that good no matter how strict of a diet regimen he keeps (abs are just not happening when you spend that much time sitting around, Jim) or any of that. Because he could have that conversation. Probably would with very little shame with his counterpart.

If not for the fact that said god has their father's face.

Because that makes this creepy in a way Jim is not okay with on any level and he would really rather not be drunk and making things weirder than they already have to be. Not to mention alcohol is empty calories. And suddenly that matters even though it's stupid and it shouldn't.

Jim probably shouldn't be enabling the other captain anyway. But man. Old habits die hard. "Right."

In any case, it's pretty damn obvious they aren't going to even want to try to get through another round of chess, so he reaches out and slides the board to the side of the table. Well, and also because he's not sure he can sit still right now and he has to do something with his hands that isn't going to end with this mug being broken.

"...so when you say Norse god, you mean... like for real?" That's certainly not the weirdest part but shit, he's getting a little desperate to break out of this endless loop of thought that keeps screaming George Kirk in his head.

Jim sighs and digs out his PINpoint from his pocket. There's no use beating around the bush or trying to keep this from his companion. The the younger captain younger captain needs to know and frankly descriptions can't do this justice. It's just too goddamn freaky not to show the bearded captain a picture he took the last time he met up with the god out at a cafe earlier.

"That's what he said."

He sets the PINpoint down so it's screen is face up and turns it round for the younger JIm to see.

"At least you got a warning."

Edited 2018-10-10 00:59 (UTC)

Part of Jim really doesn't want to see this. But he knows damn well he probably should. He steels himself, and looks down at the image.

...he's still not prepared.

It's like someone carved a bodybuilder out of solid muscle. A bodybuilder with George Kirk's face, and somehow even the eyepatch and choppy haircut that'd look awful on anyone else just work for him. Jim shifts uncomfortably, and yeah, it's so much worse seeing the guy outside his own imagination. There's a tightness in his stomach that he can't put a name to, and god, he still doesn't know what to think but it's all bad.

"...holy shit."

"He's no shape-shifter though. That's his brother's deal. I talked to his brother before I came back and got ahold of you. At the very least he's not actively trying to screw with us."

Plus, you know, he got to kind of startle a god so this is probably not something that just happens every day. Of course when it does it would happen to Jim. That's just how the odds go.

It takes a moment for 'shape-shifter' and 'brother' to sink in, and Jim's head snaps up when it does, half hoping the other captain is joking and knowing damn well he's not.

"So he's just passively screwing with us. Great."

Well, it could be worse, though knowing that doesn't exactly make him feel better about all this.

All its meant with is a shrug. Jim wishes he were just joking half the time either of them have to divulge anything to the other. One more piece of baggage to dump on the ever growing pile Jim Kirk has to learn to live with. Or handle. That bit's just easier said than done.

"Something like that. Fucking wish it was something as mundane as 'dude makes me want to hit the gym until I accept the fact I'll never look like that', at least that kind of shit we could laugh about." Grumble, grumble.

"God, right." Jim runs both hands through his hair, and lets out a heavy sigh. Why can't things be fucking simple for once.

At least forewarned is forearmed, and maybe if - or, more probably, when - he bumps into this Thor guy it won't be as deep of a shock. Maybe. The only way to do know is to do it, and Jim's not exactly eager to test his theory, now or ever.

"Be careful around him though. And his brother. I can't really figure out yet if they're human-friendly or not. Things that operate that much higher than on the level humans do don't always have the best interests in mind for us."

Not that Jim's likely to need the warning considering their similarities, but he likes to think his experiences meeting gods and befriending spirits in the Nexus gives him a bit of an experience here his counterpart might not have.

Edited 2018-10-22 21:34 (UTC)

Well, if there's anyone who knows about living in the shadow of a family member, it's Loki. He's handled it really really badly, but in a lot of ways the odds were stacked against him from the start, too. If he knew where Jim's mind was at, he might even have some sympathy. A little. Sympathy isn't his strong point.

He doesn't, though. All he knows is that Kirk had an unusually intense reaction to his brother. Jealousy, sure, he gets that. Thor is an impressive physical specimen, and, damn him, he's a genuinely good person, too. (That's the part the really gets to Loki, in the end. If Thor would just be the stupid, reckless, arrogant, entitled brick of meat Loki accuses him of being, he wouldn't be so frustrated.) One doesn't just go pale staring at someone because they're that physically attractive, though. Not in Loki's experience. There is something else there, and he wants to know what.

The text comes in from a PINpoint number, one that is unfamiliar to Jim:

Are you free to speak with me? It is not a matter of immediate importance, but I would request your advice regarding my brother.

A break between messages. Then:

My apologies. This is Thor.

The new text doesn't really catch Jim's attention until he realizes it's from an unknown number. Immediately he's sitting up straighter in his seat, skimming over the contents of the text with narrowed eyes. The fierceness shatters apart completely when he sees the accompanying message, twisting into a sick panic at the screen.

How did he get Jim's number? Why him?? No, he doesn't want to talk to Thor. Thor is the reason he's having these goddamn spiraling thoughts in the first place. The captain sits over his PINpoint for several minutes. He might be able to find some answers as to who this guy is if he agrees though. More importantly if he refuses Thor may run into his counterpart in the Nexus and assume they're one and the same.

That would be every kind of bad. His younger self has enough shit on his plate right now.

Sure thing. Meet up at Crossroads? It's the bakery I sent you guys to last time. I can be there in fifteen minutes.

Yes, a fine place. I enjoyed their krumkaker!

Hopefully they will not be dismayed to see me back so soon. I will await you there.

Loki wasn't paying full attention to what exactly Thor ate when they were there, but he did a pretty good number on the place's stock and Loki himself enjoyed the krumkaker, so it's a safe bet his brother did, too. He is sure the staff at the place will remember the broad-shouldered tower of muscle that threatened to empty the bakery case.

He's wearing Thor's form, of course, before he even gets close to the building. The eyepatch is a new wrinkle; he doesn't like it. He can see through his own illusions, as needed, but for some reason, the weight of it sits heavy on his face. It must be psychosomatic; seiðr is, in actuality, lighter than air.

When Jim arrives, he will see Thor at a table with a cup of coffee and a plate that's heavily-loaded with croissants, danish, and whatever else Loki could find that looked like something that would catch Thor's eye. He has no intention of eating most of it; his appetite is not a match for his brother's, ever. Still, he's paid and will tip like any good guest of an establishment should. Maybe he'll bring the sweets to Thor later, or give them away in the Nexus.

He beams when Jim appears, standing up at his chair. It's more the smile of greeting Thor would have offered in the old days, before Loki fell, before so many sad and terrible things happened to them. Maybe the trickster's performance is a little rusty, but his quarry has no way of knowing that. "Thank you, friend. I appreciate you agreeing to meet me here. Will you drink?"

He gestures to his coffee.

The owner of the cafe is a lanky Japanese man who will greet 'Thor' with a reserved smile that really doesn't do justice to just how excited he is to find a customer who appreciates so many different variety of sweets and baked goods. Katsuya will be sure to make the offer to box up anything he's not going to eat now for ease of carrying and sharing later. Or not--he did see just how much the god ate last time they were at the establishment.

It's a smile that diminishes slightly when Jim walks in. Turns a touch frosty and more businesslike and normally Jim would return the look but right now he's too busy holding in the mother of all grimaces at the warm greeting Thor is giving him.

James T. Kirk never got to see his father smile at him like that. Or at all. But he's seen that smile in holos, in photographs of his family from before he was born. For just a moment he feels tears prick at his eyes before Jim's biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to nearly taste blood and gathering his wits about him. He needs to do this. Needs to find out more about this so called god.

Thor is not George Kirk, and Jim needs to cement that in his head for his own sanity as much as anything else.

"Sure. I'll get us refills. How do you take it?" However it's requested Jim will buy them drinks though he takes his own straight up black and takes a seat across the table. "I'm surprised you came to me, honestly, though I imagine with just getting here you didn't really have much for options." How did he get Jim's number to begin with? So many questions and his is an ever moving mind.

Goodness. Again, a more intense reaction than Loki expected. Were he a better person, he might feel some pity here. It is an effort to read thoughts, but it is not an effort to sense emotions, not in a human. They all but project them; it seems to be a species trait. There are exceptions, of course, and then there are a brilliant few--like the Natasha Romanoff he encountered--who are able to feel sorrow, guilt, horror, able to project them, and yet dissociate from them and operate flawlessly through the experience. Jim Kirk appears to be attempting to control and work around his feelings, but they seem to be a weak point nonetheless.

It will take a little time to work out why this face prompts that sorrow, he imagines. Even a human unaccustomed to the supernatural will notice if his thoughts are rifled through too roughly. Care and patience are imperative.

"Well," 'Thor' answers, leaning back in his seat in such a way as to make the legs creak with protest. Asgardian body tissues are more dense than they look. He's well over 600 pounds of muscle. Loki is only a hair over 500, but a challenge for standard-issue furniture even at that rate. "As I said, it's more a matter of my brother than myself. He is a schemer--I care for him dearly, of course--but his reach has been known to exceed his grasp. The version you met is not, as I understand, from my world. Indeed, he is from a short while in the future, as compared to me. But he has taken it into his head to assist me in any way necessary."

Such warmth and loyalty from baby-brother Loki! Such tender generosity. What a good sibling he is!

Thor looks troubled. "He has concerns about the longevity and suitability of our vessel. I know not, for he will not tell me, why he frets so. Possibly his own Thor and our people ran across some difficulties and he does not wish to burden me with fear of a dark fate. Someone, a young woman, mentioned the Enterprise to him in casual conversation,"

This is, in fact, true, and while he won't be using the tidbit of information quite the way she intended, he's grateful to her for the tipoff.

"And he has skill in ferreting out information, particularly since you yourself mentioned Starfleet. He understands you to be in command of a vessel better suited to carrying a large population than our own. He will not tell me what he plans to do with that information, and Loki..." Sigh.

"His plots can be grandiose and fanciful, but he might honestly consider anything from barter to outright piracy a fair course of action if the lives of our people are truly at stake."

A little brother who schemes and gets in over his head, you say? For all the pain Jim is trying so desperately to cover up with a stoic facade of calm and in control he seems to be somewhat relieved of it at this description. Jim knows someone who fits that description perfectly, someone very close to him in fact. As depressed as seeing ghosts of his dead father in the man before him makes the starship captain nothing can lift his spirits quite like being reminded of Felix Caelus even such a small way as this.

The next smile Jim offers is much more sincere, though it is somber. The subject at hand is a cry for help at best and a thinly veiled warning of a threat at worst after all.

"Yeah, I'm from a time and place where space travel is not only common but essential. Where humans are a prominent part of the Galactic stage. Ships are...I know ships." Better than most even considering his position. Engineering was always a favorite subject of his back at the Academy. "His first stop should honestly be the Nexus. If anywhere's got a place with a for-hire staff who can help fix up a ship at the drop of a hat it would be here."

He's sure Scotty and Chekov would love to take a look at another ship too but for a man Jim Kirk barely knows it's best not to tell just how much he's willing to do or help with just yet. The word 'piracy' hangs in the air. Jim understands though. When it comes to looking out to you and yours, there's a level of desperation at play. Just as he will look out for his own.

"If you have schematics of the ship or any questions about how to improve it or what to look for though I wouldn't mind at least taking a look. Seeing if your world does ships the way mine does or not."

Loki is listening, weighing and considering every flicker of body language, every change of expression, every bit of emotion Kirk projects. It's downright startling to realize the description of himself he's just given sparks such warm thoughts. Not for Loki himself, of course--that would be abnormal. But for someone of a similar temperament and bent of mind.

That's almost charming.

"Sometimes," the false Thor admits slowly, "I think he chooses illicit methods for achieving his goals even when simpler options exist. For amusement's sake. But your suggestion is good, if I can get him to see that."

He picks up a pastry and turns it in his fingers a moment before taking a bite. And that is not a particularly Thor-like habit, but Loki is thinking on multiple tracks at once. "I do not carry schematics, but I can obtain them easily enough."

Right. It's best Loki go ahead and address the elephant in the room before painting himself into a corner, which is a terrible mix of metaphors, but seems appropriate to the Nexus anyway. "I'm grateful to find you so willing to help. I had thought, perhaps, I offended you in some way at our last meeting. You left in a hurry."

"Have some faith in him. If he cares about your people the way you say, then he'll come through." Seems like a universal constant that little brothers get their intentions questioned. Their efforts under appreciated. Jim doesn't pretend to know this Loki, but as a fellow little brother he feels like he has to add in the remark either way. "I can understand your situation. If I can help I'd like to."

It won't stop him from keeping an ear to the ground. Threats against his world must be taken seriously after all. But he's not going to to look to harass Thor's brother simply from hearsay. This time the comment makes Jim clench his jaw and fist at his side tighter but otherwise he doesn't allow himself to react. The shock has more or less worn off, leaving a pervasive ache in its place and that is a pain Jim Kirk is no stranger to. He can ignore it long enough to get through the meeting.

"You...no. That's not. That's not your fault. You surprised me is all. I thoguht you were...someone else for a moment."

Do what? Have faith in him? Oh, well done, Jim Kirk; you're really challenging Loki's ability to cling to this role he's selected. Part of him wants to laugh out loud, and another part wants to read out a litany of his own sins just to make sure the other man knows exactly who and what he's talking about. Neither of those are things Thor would do, though. He keeps his recriminations light, as if Loki's worst deeds involved stealing the last piece of pie, not threatening the lives of millions.

It's an effort to keep his expression neutral. Hopefully it comes across as pensive rather than shocked or grim. Apparently they're shaking one another up in this conversation, though, and the sight of Kirk clenching his jaw is enough to remind Loki of what his goal in prompting this chat was.

"Someone important to you?" He ventures to guess, and his one visible eye is cool and analytical. "Someone no longer present in your life."

A loss, then. He's guessing, extrapolating based on what he sees and senses, but he doesn't doubt his guess. He looks back into his coffee cup, sparing the other man the piercing stare. "A strange quirk of the multiverse, then, to provide the same face for different people."

"...Sort of. It's kind of difficult to have someone you've never met be important to you in the sort of sense most people think."

But Thor's come out here and is concerned enough to make Jim feel bad for how he's been acting. It's not the Asgadrian's fault that Jim's got every kind of hangup when it comes to the other's looks. One a lot easier to deal with than the other. He wishes it was just a shallow vanity issue. It would be easier to stomach. Instead he withdraws a slim glass device from the inner pocket of his uniform and calls up the public domain bio on George Kirk before handing it over. It's easier than talking about it overmuch.

"My father." A hero of Starfleet who died at the captain's birth. The savior of the Kelvin. Like Loki, the man who wears this face has cast an impossibly large shadow for his relation to be living in. Just, a son in this case.

Now they're getting somewhere, and Loki finds it's not quite the where he feared it might be. He dusts his hands free of pastry crumbs and accepts the device carefully. The flicker of surprise that crosses 'Thor's' face is not feigned. That's not just a resemblance, it's as if someone made a mold of Thor and carried it off to Jim's world to be used to create a duplicate.

"That certainly explains a lot," he says mildly, in Thor's voice, and reads through the information twice, thoroughly, searching for further nuance.

He has a vague sense he should feel guilty about provoking this. He can't be completely unsympathetic to a man with issues related to his parentage. He can't be unsympathetic to loss and 'what might have been', and he can't be unsympathetic to spending one's life in a bright shadow. "That is not me," he says quietly, in Thor's voice, in case that was in doubt. "I have no connection to this man that I am aware of, for whatever that's worth."

Theoretically some sort of weird cross-universe hereditary link is possible, but it sure isn't probable. (Norns, what if it were, though? What if Loki were talking to his great-great-great grandnephew or something right about now? He would have to feel very sorry for Kirk, in that case.) "A peculiar coincidence," he says gently, handing back the tablet. "I have no explanation. However--"

Once the device is out of his hand, Loki decides to drop the illusion, shimmering green-gold and dwindling to his own normal shape. "Perhaps this face will make you more comfortable conversing. It's me, not Thor, but you must understand: I had to know. Thor always sees the best in people. I do not. But I am satisfied that in this case, my concerns were unfounded."

Surprise! This probably seems like a real dick move to Kirk, Loki assumes. But he's not going to apologize. He has, as always, his own reasons.

"My old man didn't talk like you do. Nor did he have your kind of stature." No doubt the Kelvin tragedy would have gone a lot differently if his father had been some kind of God. It's such a ridiculous thought that Jim has to swallow a laugh. It wouldn't be one of humor so much as hysteria and James T. Kirk is stronger than this. Than the ghosts standing in front of him who are and are not important to him.

"Like I said, it's not your fault. I'm just--?!" Jim takes back the data pad with a furrow of his eyebrows but whatever he was saying dries up when Loki reveals himself. He doesn't drop the device but it's a near thing. He's seen this kind of magic before. Felix's brother is a strong wielder of it but never has Jim seen an illusion done so easily as though it cost Loki nothing more than a breath to command and discard at a moment's notice.

"I..." What the fuck. "What the Fuck?"

It's a good thing he's already sitting down.

"Well, naturally you find it unsettling. That's no one's fault," he says, and watches the Captain's reaction to his change.

He'd be lying if he tried to pretend he wasn't looking for surprise, if he denied (at least to himself) that the stammer amuses him. He wasn't looking to make the man swoon or go into shock, though, and he'd rather not make him an enemy. So while there's a flicker of unmistakable laughter in his eyes, and his lips twitch briefly, he's quick to school his expression to something more neutral.

"I'm a shapeshifter," he says. "I suppose I didn't get around to mentioning that. Thor is not, however, so his uncanny resemblance to your father is not his doing, nor is it mine. Do you need a glass of water?"

Edited (typo) 2018-10-21 04:10 (UTC)

"You're a..." Easy Jim. Best not let your mouth run off making threats you can't back up to a god. His flash of anger is more thanks to do with his already shot nerves and shock more than it is real rage. Jim Kirk shakes his head and looks down at the table for a moment. At least, when he looks up again Loki is still Loki ~~for now~~.

"Let me get this straight. You jacked my personal information, pretended to be your brother, called me out here, casually threatened my fleet and her people....all to get a better gauge on whether or not I would be a threat to a fucking God?"

The offer for water is kind but Jim's got his coffee and he's going to help himself to it and probably drain the rest of it while he tries to stand back metaphorically and see all the pieces on the chessboard of this whole debacle. Tries to understand the capricious whilms of a god.

"I don't know whether I'm impressed by your dedication to him or if I want to punch you. Which wouldn't do me any good and that is not helping."

"Indeed." There is almost no word that Jim could finish that sentence with that Loki hasn't heard directed at him before now, and he takes the aborted insult calmly. This is actually the part of a prank he likes best: the outrage of the victim. Not that this was just a prank; there is more at stake here than a laugh, or, as the case may be, a momentary psychological breakdown.

"That's more or less the size of it," he admits, leaning back in his chair again. "There are many forces at work in my world. I had to know if you were associated with any that were likely to come around and bite us in the collective arse."

That might be paranoia. "For what it's worth, the threat of piracy was merely a red herring. The Statesman is, as far as I can tell, a solid enough craft to get her people from one point in space to the next." And even if not, that's a moot point.

There's a flicker of something more grim in his eyes for a moment.

"I'd rather you didn't punch me, but there's no call to be impressed, either. This is what I do. This is what I am."

Jim sets aside his empty mug and takes a long, deep breath. He'd been set to be annoyed. Even angry at this turn of events. And then the god had to go and keep talking.

This is what I do, this is what I am.

Would Jim not do whatever he could to protect his crew? Moreover, would Felix not do these things to protect Stratos' interests? Hasn't he already? It doesn't make a lot of sense for a God to be so worried about a single mortal but maybe the Gods have more to fear from ordinary humans in Loki's world than on Nirn. His own world, godless as it is, gives Jim nothing to compare any of this to.

"I'm not going to punch you. It'd be an asshole thing to do and since you're a god what good would it do even if I did, except potentially piss you off and make an enemy out of a man I can't even begin to understand the dangers of?" The captain sighs. Pinches the bridge of his nose where he feels a headache building just behind his eyes.

"You had reason to doubt me, and no one's been hurt because of this. I've got no reason to be mad."

Oh, he has every right to be angry! Loki wasn't about to apologize, but he also wasn't inclined to dispute that Jim has reason to be annoyed, either. He's rather impressed, in fact, by how well he's handling the incident. Despite how rattled he must be, he seems to be maintaining his calm, even considering Loki's point of view.

That, combined with his earlier advice to 'Thor' to have faith in his little brother is almost touching. This is, he thinks, a man worth keeping a friendly eye on, assuming he hasn't yet infuriated him beyond forging an alliance.

"For the record, anything with a corporeal form can be punched, gods included. Just a bit of advice, should it ever come up in your future. The only question is whether the god will take more harm from it, or your fist." He's pretty sure Jane Foster came away with bruises from when she slapped him, but she did knock his head to one side. He's not immune.

"You have every reason to be angry, but it won't do either of us any good at this point," he further points out. "The question is do you prefer I explain your aversion to my brother and encourage him to give you your space, or would you rather I said nothing?"

"Yeah but the last Better-than-human I punched turned to solid ice and royally fucked me up when I tried. Unlike some people, I can learn from my mistakes." Not a jab at anyone in particular, just a simple statement of fact. The more gods and god-like entities Jim Kirk meets the more he has come to school his temper and his tongue as best as he can. It causes more harm than good to treat them like any other person more often than not.

It's a little bit satisfying to hear Loki admit Jim's got reason to be mad. Seems like the guy isn't incapable of understanding things form a human's point of view. That's...possibly a good thing? Too soon to tell.

"If the whole space and ship thing ever becomes an issue, let me know, by the way. That was a real offer." He's no mage or god but science and engineering are things he's pretty good at. In this place full of extraordinary people it pays dividends to have a niche to fill. That and it's an excuse not to answer the last question immediately. Gives Jim a moment to think.

"No don't...don't bother him about it. It's no fault of his and I'll get used to it eventually. Was the shock more than anything that hit hard." He doesn't like it, but he's dealt with worse.

Edited 2018-10-22 21:31 (UTC)

"Solid ice, truly?" Loki frowns thoughtfully. "That's a form I stay away from, personally. Was that in the Nexus?"

If there are Frost Giants around, he might need to know about that. It could have been in Kirk's own world, though, he supposes, knowing little about it.

His frown softens at the offer, dissolving into something more like a weary smile. "I will pass that information along to Thor. Unfortunately, I will be unable to keep an eye on our ship in the world I come from. It...actually, I suspect it has been destroyed, but I dare to hope there were some survivors." Thor included, he hopes. It would be very like Thanos to slay one brother and deliberately leave the other alive. He was obsessed with equilibrium.

"But it was destroyed under enemy fire, not through any engineering fault. I would not request weaponry from another dimension. It's not my place, for one, and for another I suspect even the best firepower the multiverse has to offer would only buy a little time. Some battles cannot be won by fighting."

His own coffee cup is now empty, and he looks into it as if he can't decide whether he wants a refill or not. His fingers tap the edge of the cup idly, and he hums under his breath. "If you're quite sure. I'm not sure how my brother would react to the resemblance, now that I think of it. It might disturb him, as well. Or he might shrug it off as he does so many odd coincidences."

"For whatever it's worth, I am not unimpressed by your diplomacy." Something sly creeps back into his smile again. "Would you like one of these croissants? I cannot possibly finish them all."

Captain Kirk gives a nod of confirmation.

"Reynard North's the resident winter spirit of the Nexus. He gets some pretty special powers during the season but he also becomes kind of a fickle asshole round that time. I've learned to try and stay on his good side." They're friends the rest of the year, but it's difficult to deal with him during Winter.

Talking about the potential destruction of Loki's ship and his people is disheartening and a reminder for Jim to keep a careful watch on things getting into his world from the Nexus. After the potentially catastrophic situations they've already faced the last thing anyone need sis another power-drunk despot.

"If he gets worried about it, you can tell him I guess. I'll try not to give him reason to though. No promises on my...oh. Right. So, uh. There's actually two of me in the Nexus. He doesn't know about Thor yet." Three, actually, but Jim doesn't know about his older self and it's probably for the best he doesn't right now. This is enough to keep sorted."We look the same, but he grew out a beard for differentiating himself so it's kind of hard to miss him. I'll have to warn him."

"Reynard North," Loki repeats thoughtfully. "A bit on the nose, but a suitable name, I suppose. And he becomes solid ice in the winter?"

He's not sure if that means this is someone he ought to introduce himself to or someone he ought to avoid at all costs. A Jotun ought to get along well enough with a winter spirit, except Loki very much prefers to be in charge of as much of his surroundings as possible. And if he is as irascible as Kirk suggests, there is no question Loki will annoy him. He routinely upsets even the pleasant and sweet-tempered.

Maybe he'd better see what Harley knows of this spirit.

He takes the news of Jim's alternate without a blink. It's not a surprise, in a multiversal Nexus, although it's sort of interesting that the two of them get along. "I would recommend that, yes. My brother is terminally friendly, and sometimes he misses some subtle nuances of social interaction. He would not be deliberately unkind, though. He is a well-meaning oaf."

Whereas Loki deliberately ignores subtle nuances of social interaction whenever it suits him, and has rarely been described as well-meaning.

"He doesn't have to, that's just a thing he can do if he wants to mess with people. Like say, if someone decides to hit him for whatever reason." Even if he deserves it. Especially if he deserves it. Means he always gets to have the final say in any altercation. Jim's learned his lesson handily and would like his body to remain intact this year.

"My counterpart's about two years in my past though some things are different between us. I'm sure I can't enforce this request, but I"d appreciate it if you didn't tell him anything you find out about me. We're trying not to fuck his timeline over too badly." He'll have to warn his bearded companion about Thor as soon as he's done here. Better not to wait on this kind of a scare.

Jim's picking at one of the pastries offered his way. They're good but he's not really hungry even despite not actually sitting face to face with Thor again. Getting used to the coincidence is going to take some time. The implications of it still settle on old, deep wounds.

"He seemed like a pretty decent guy. Are all gods 'a bit arrogant' or is that just human perception?"

A Winter spirit that can turn into solid ice to mess with people. Loki feels vaguely put-out now. He should have thought of that schtick himself, damn. Well, that settles it. Whether he should speak to this North or not, he's bloody well going to, if the opportunity arises.

"So much can happen in two years," he murmurs his understanding. "I will do my best to comply with your request."

He wouldn't want anyone telling a younger alternate of him all the madness that lies in store for him. He absolutely understands. However, being a god of mischief, he can't promise anything. Still, what he can and has offered is a good faith effort. Unless a good reason comes along, he won't betray any secrets to the other Kirk. Besides, there are always better pranks to be played.

Loki chuckles at the question. Was that a backhanded comment, or just a statement of fact? "I do not know all gods," he says. "But I would venture to say arrogance runs in my family, on Father's side."

It's a fair answer. Jim's not expecting miracles nor other people to care about time paradoxes and branching multiverses as much as he and his counterpart do. Either way, it satisfies Kirk just fine. For all of his schemes and posturing there's an awful lot about Loki to like so far as Jim can see.

A big part of that is his projecting his own assumptions based on similarities he finds in the god to people he knows but that's hardly Loki's fault.

"Then yeah, he seems like a pretty decent guy, arrogance aside. And I imagine it gets pretty easy to be arrogant when you're statistically stronger than 99% of the people around you, even if you don't mean it." One doesn't need physical strength to be arrogant, of course. Jim's been accused of it himself and he's quite used to being one of the physically weakest in any given room.

"He has mellowed somewhat, in recent years," Loki tells him. "He was raised as a warrior amongst warriors, the eldest prince of an ancient race of divinities, the heir to his father's immense power. His enthusiasm for battle was never discouraged, and it grew untempered for far too long."

"By most measures, his mistakes and transgressions are lesser than mine, but without intervention, he might have become the monster I am accused of being. And that would be a tragedy." An ambiguous statement. Almost like Loki's taking credit for doing bad things so Thor didn't have to. Light can't exist without Darkness, after all. Or can it?

"But no. Now he is a friend to mortals and a shepherd to his people, and that is fitting." He takes a bite of the pastry he's been playing with, savoring it quietly, and picks the crumbs up off the table, fastidious as a cat.

"I appreciate your attempt to give me the benefit of the doubt, by the way. I will not forget that."

Growing Shadows (open thread, tagging boldygoing for sure)

Beard Jim

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NOTHING TO SEE HERE MOVE ALONG

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