[Loki settled into the role of story-teller quite easily. If there was one thing the warriors liked about having Loki sulking about their feast halls when he was feeling particularly lonely--or, far more likely, his brother had dragged him along after one of their ridiculous adventures--it was Loki's sure gift with his silver tongue. The Trickster was excellent at story telling; whether it was an epic legend of old or a recent adventure full of over-the-top exaggeration in boasting, Loki knew just how to weave the tale for the best reactions and created much entertainment of all those gathered around. And it never failed to excite and enrapture any of his audiences the subtle--or not so subtle when the timing was right--usage of his magic for supplemental imagery.
Tonight he was somber in his telling as befit the night and the tale alike. He used his hands to shape the story as much figuratively with his slight gestures here and there as literally whenever he used the movement to guide his magic. The ghostly image of wolves danced across the night sky starting from the constellation point on the horizon and returning there at the end of his story as if to fade back into their proper place in the night sky, as was once their fate so long ago according to legend, watching a never-ending vigil in the sky.
The story ended and a lonely howl went off in the distance followed by a chorus of responding howls. Loki's eyes darted out to the horizon giving the impression that the coincidence startled him. (Though who was to say it was not his own doing and but a ruse as he was wont to do.) He glanced back at Sif with a sheepish smile and shrugged it away.]
no subject
[Loki settled into the role of story-teller quite easily. If there was one thing the warriors liked about having Loki sulking about their feast halls when he was feeling particularly lonely--or, far more likely, his brother had dragged him along after one of their ridiculous adventures--it was Loki's sure gift with his silver tongue. The Trickster was excellent at story telling; whether it was an epic legend of old or a recent adventure full of over-the-top exaggeration in boasting, Loki knew just how to weave the tale for the best reactions and created much entertainment of all those gathered around. And it never failed to excite and enrapture any of his audiences the subtle--or not so subtle when the timing was right--usage of his magic for supplemental imagery.
Tonight he was somber in his telling as befit the night and the tale alike. He used his hands to shape the story as much figuratively with his slight gestures here and there as literally whenever he used the movement to guide his magic. The ghostly image of wolves danced across the night sky starting from the constellation point on the horizon and returning there at the end of his story as if to fade back into their proper place in the night sky, as was once their fate so long ago according to legend, watching a never-ending vigil in the sky.
The story ended and a lonely howl went off in the distance followed by a chorus of responding howls. Loki's eyes darted out to the horizon giving the impression that the coincidence startled him. (Though who was to say it was not his own doing and but a ruse as he was wont to do.) He glanced back at Sif with a sheepish smile and shrugged it away.]