Loki and Dejah
Norse gods don't all live on Asgardia. A few of them live in New York.
And none of those Norse gods actually look like Norse gods. This particular one likes to hang out in expensive coffee shops and use their wifi to play World of Warcraft on his laptop.
He's not wearing his mail or horns today, but instead a rather ironic I ♥ Asgardia shirt. (He doesn't. He really, really doesn't.)
And none of those Norse gods actually look like Norse gods. This particular one likes to hang out in expensive coffee shops and use their wifi to play World of Warcraft on his laptop.
He's not wearing his mail or horns today, but instead a rather ironic I ♥ Asgardia shirt. (He doesn't. He really, really doesn't.)
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The quiet sounds of the game drift over her thoughts, and she smirks, casting a glance over at the young man so intent on the laptop. A moment later, she's flipped the page and started sketching him as well.
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"Make sure you get my good side," he calls out, loudly enough for the woman with the sketch pad to hear.
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"I have no idea," he says while he slaughters a band of five, single-handedly.
He's not very popular on this server.
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"This side seems to have a face on it. Mind if I keep going?"
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With the slaughter over, Loki takes a quick break to drink his coffee. It's his sixth one already, having just been going straight down the menu with each new order.
"Oh, my gods, that is awful," he says, nearly spitting it out. Banana coffee is not something he likes, it seems. "Have you tried this? It's terrible."
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He says this like it's a good thing. Somehow.
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Loki closes his game and sits up a bit more, trying not to be obvious about craning to see the sketchbook.
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Even though he can't see what she's drawing, he leans against the arm of the sofa he's on and watches her.
"Is this for a school thing, or do you just like drawing strangers?"
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"Speed portraits. Supposed to be stealth, too, but you caught me. It's a way to keep my skills honed."
Too many hours in front of the easel makes Dejah a dull girl.
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Well, there are some magicks that might let that happen, but Loki's in possession of most of the known artefacts with that purpose already.
He looks like any other 20-something in a coffee shop. Terrible haircut, black nails, slightly-smeared eye-liner. He should probably freshen that up, actually.
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She flips the sketchbook around and shows him.
"How'd I do?"
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"That's very good," he says honestly. "I think my nose is a little more narrow, though."
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She doesn't erase and make the change, instead, flipping the page and starting again. Her entire demeanor becomes a bit more intent.
"You into art at all?"
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He watches her draw, eager to see the results of this new sketch.
"Do you just draw, or do you do other mediums as well?"
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"I started out in mixed media, back when I was in LA. But I changed to oils four years ago. Haven't looked back."
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And he looks rather pleased with even that.
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"A marketable skill, indeed." She focuses on the sketch for another few strokes of the pencil. "You know the Boiler Room Gallery, up on 9th?"
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He pulls out his phone and does the intelligent thing and Googles it.
"Have you got an installation there?"
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"You could say that," she says, distracted now, adding the last few lines to the portrait. "Here, how's this one?"
Again, she spins the sketchbook toward him.
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