#loki: emotional support birdie <3

[efoyisk]

"hey, loki." he doesn't know where he is. not exactly. somewhere in california, that he knows. around the 1980's. somewhere safe, or at least years before the invasion of new york ever happens. mobius doesn't like going to anytime after that period, unless he's visiting don and the kids, because any time where he knows a version of loki is near earth hurts.

anyway. he's glad that b-15 let him get ahold of a timepad. just in case you need to find your way back here, she tells him, even though that's kind of bull, because they both know he's going to use it for anything but to return to the TVA.

the TVA. mobius feels a bitter scoff running up his throat now, but he chases it away. so much for it being his whole life; being all that he knows. it's surprisingly barren, working through the files and the computer log without... well, without ravonna breathing his neck for once, and without loki. loki. right. he was in the middle of something, wasn't he?

mobius digs his toes into the california sands. it's rough. even being near the sea isn't as thrilling as it should've been.

"they said you could hear me. theoretically. wherever you are, up in the cosmos, or- or beyond that. how... how are ya'?" people are looking at him weird for talking alone, to no one, but who cares. he doesn't. "i hope... i hope you're good, yeah. i just- i've been well, if you'd even care to ask." but of course loki cares; the gentlest thing to ever to. if he doesn't, he would've let all these lives perish. but instead—

"i'm sorry. you know i didn't mean that." he says softly now, like the god is right there. like mobius could reach him, caress that hair away from that face like he never could've, but wanted to. he'd always wanted to. there were just- never time. never a chance. loki was so focused, and he only ever wanted to help. "i've been good, uh. but you know that, cause i mentioned it. i just... i know about don now, and the kids. great kids. little rascals, really. kinda remind me of you."

a chuckle, but again, it sounds- like rattling stones in an empty can. it's nothing. it's just sound. mobius hates it. "i... i don't get it, loki. i don't." he whispers now, and there's anguish there, deep and wretched. it's selfish, asking this of loki, pleading. he's doing a good thing; he's saving lives, but mobius— "i know you've wanted a throne, but is this what you meant?"

alone, cold, empty. did he even have food there? snacks? could he sleep? is anybody even taking care of him, looking out for him? mobius doesn't know; and not knowing kills.

"you know, i never... i never said it aloud- maybe i should've, but... i thought we could've had a good life together, you and me. i don't know what we'd be doing: probably tasting food, riding jet skis and causing mischief, but it sounds like a life, right? a good one. a simple one, but good. and i could- i would've built a throne for you if you want. in a nice house, maybe. by a lake. just you and me, loki. we'll let time pass, you and i. that's all we would have to do. no more heroic deeds; no more sacrificial lambs. just ... something simple, but good."

i would've loved you, is what he doesn't say, but desperately wants to. how can he? his throat's tight. and his vision's getting blurry. great, mobius thinks, wiping away at his budding tears. he can't be doing this again. cause what if loki'll never take him seriously, a man begging through his sobs. he's an asgardian like that; they're gonna have their pride. "i- i miss you. i'm sorry." for what? he doesn't know. for not being quick enough, maybe, to notice what loki's up to. for not stopping him when he could. for not waiting.

because that's all loki's ever wanted: time. mobius wishes he could've given it to him.

   it’s quite strange.   he can feel everything.   everything that is, everything that isn’t, everything that was and will be and might be and is about to be and—you understand.   eyes and ears everywhere.   watching but not quite living.   at least most of them are.   except one.

  except the one to whom loki owes beyond everyone else.   that one is solemn, nostalgic and defeated, unable to enjoy the water he so passionately enjoyed, once.   it feels bitter.   if loki can feel such a thing anymore.

  the wind picks up a little.   the clouds above mobius form a strange shape, like a pair of almond shaped eyes.   a kid a few meters away points it out to his mother.   i know, the sea whispers.   i know.   the sky darkens though only slightly.   the waves form a rhythmic hum, like a calling from the beyond.   it’s a sad sound.   serene, though wretched.   like the whining of some spectre, unable to escape from where it’s been bound.   the gentle breeze picks up into a gust of wind, rising sand up to mobius’s thighs, dusting him.

  a croak echoes behind him.   there’s a bird there, behind him;   white, black, the edges of its wings gleaming with blue-green when the light hits it just right.   the magpie tilts its head, cawing at mobius then it opens its wings, rises until it can settle on mobius’s shoulder and nests there, cawing at the horizon.   there’s naught to be done.   this was the only way loki wanted to follow.   the only way they could be given a chance;   the only way for them to live and to protect what has been preserved.   it’s a sad thing.   loki does not regret it.   he only hopes this time, it will be enough.