The prospect of having his own magic is something he has rarely wondered about. He is rather content with his tricks and storms (things that are familiar to him, things he has lived with for many years, things he has mastered to the point of needing something else to occupy himself) and magic is foreign when it comes to him using it as his own. There is power in magic, more power than he has ever had, and power can cause chaos and destruction and all the things he desires to cause.
However, having his own magic is something he has rarely considered, except on small occasions. He does wonder how he would be with his own brand of magic. He certainly wouldn’t be serving of the side of goodness and light and happiness; but would he serve darkness and chaos and destruction and his lovers, or would he serve only himself? The whisperings of curiosity often peak at the edge of his thoughtful mind whenever he comes across a magician, but when her voice rings out; he forces his thoughts back to her.
Her words pique at his interest even further and his bruised eyes latch on to her shifting eyes. “Sounds like my kind of party,” he says smoothly, calculating expression glancing over hers. He’s rather good at reading facial expressions (at dissecting their tiniest tells like the best of the poker players, at listening for the hidden catches in their words and volumes and accents, at finding the small things that give a sneak peek of how they tick) and he uses such talents now, keeping a causal look over his face even though he knows she can feel his emotions and thoughts and shifting memories.
“I wouldn’t know, really. When I was last there, things seemed to be going wonderfully. But now that I’m a couple weeks in the future, there could have been a war for all I know.” He chuckles to himself, ears flopping leisurely as if his home becoming completely demolished by war was something he almost wanted to see. And in truth, maybe he did. War meant chaos and chaos meant destruction and destruction meant death and all four of those things are things he loves.
He shrugs his sloped shoulders casually. “Congratulations, by the way.” He didn’t really keep up very much with the recording of the Deserts’ competition, but he did find out enough to know who the winners were. And then he licks his lips slowly and patiently, waiting to find out just what she has in mind for him.
Lokii
the tricky god of chaos