First time

[lilpoundcake]

my first time went like... This isn't a smut meme. Well, it is, but it isn't. Only, theoretically, it could be a little bit. OKAY WAIT don't leave. What I mean to say is that...do you have a headcanon about how your character's first time went down? What it was like? Who it was with? You do? Cool. Now it's time to share that story. And by that I mean your character is required by meme law to spill the details, ICly. Publicly. How fun! rules. - No blank comments, natch. You're gonna plop that first time reminiscence right in the top level; play the idea straight, be as awkward or funny or crazy/sexy/cool as you wanna. - Yes, "I've never had sex" and related answers are accepted. - Reply to others' /r/ihavesex worthy debauchery.

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[vigilly]

No I'm sorry's needed. I've settled with how it turned out.

[ There'd been no fantasy except his own, but oh, how he'd wanted that one to be real. He still does. ]

Do you ever imagine it differently? A scenario with you, less scared of intimacy. Him, available in every way that counted.

[coldsong]

[First loves are hard. Even when they work out, which they rarely do, there is bound to be some disappointment, some expectation broken and proven unrealistic.

It's a sobering question, and Loki has to consider it for a long moment, clasping his hands in a self-soothing gesture.] I don't know. I think I've moved past him, specifically, but the scenario itself, with someone--Norns, yes, that still appeals, and I can imagine a number of people I wasn't allowed to keep in the position of...of available in every way that counted.

[vigilly]

This isn't to belittle your experience, but if you've moved beyond him, at least there is always an option that someday someone is going to come along who is available. In every way.

What counts, then, is whether you are, too.

[ Elio doesn't say it in any way that passes judgment. He's lived the past ten lives moving from person to person, not so much looking for someone who was available, but to try and find his own availability. He hasn't found it yet.

Perhaps because he knows who has it. ]

[coldsong]

Mm. You're not wrong, but I must also counter, there's an equally good chance that there is simply no one out there for me at all, ever, with my own nature being at fault.

I have to say, the words I'm hearing from you sound like they belong to someone with an older face. Are you human?

[vigilly]

[ A stunned pause. Then, he looks down, smiling, seeming amused but pleased at the same time. ]

Totally human. It's just that I'm human and precocious.

[ The smile widens a tiny bit before he shakes his head, tempering himself. ]

Our own natures can be strict rulers. Mine says run a lot which is a lonely road. What does yours say?

[coldsong]

My condolences, then. [Amusement colors his voice.] Not that I'm not impressed, but precociousness early in life does often lead to struggles later on.

[Sounds as though he might be aware of that already. The question prompts a pause, a thoughtful, rueful sort of look.] I'm a mercurial creature. I'm not sure that mine is even consistent, but--I am a Trickster, and my duty and privilege is to transgress, to shake the status quo and force change, even at my own risk.

...unfortunately, I think that means my inner voice is usually saying fuck around and find out.

[vigilly]

[ His mind provides a dry, tell me about it while his face provides an expression that says something more along the lines of, sad, isn't it? At the other man's answer, though, he frowns briefly. Fuck around and find out sounds like a lonely road, too. ]

What have you found out so far? [ And because it feels like the sort of question you only ask if you're willing to give a little, he provides: ] I feel like I fuck around a lot as well and my discoveries have more to do with other people and less to do with me which is the question I'm really asking.

[coldsong]

[This is an unusually friendly conversation for Loki in the first place, but it feels oddly sympathetic now. Or maybe Loki is just projecting, because oh! does he ever understand what searching for one's identity feels like.]

I've found out that what people say they want and what they think they want and what they really want are nearly always three different things. That forgiveness is often based on need and loneliness, and a grievous mistake can haunt a person forever. The universe is run on stories.

I know what I am, but I may never actually know who I am with any certainty. I thought that made me broken once, but now I'm not so sure. It seems to be...more common than one would think.

Which is not to say I'm not broken, necessarily, just not for that reason.

[vigilly]

The universe is run on stories.

[ Repeating the sentence in a low voice because he likes it, because he thinks it's one of the truest things he's ever heard and because he wants to commit it to memory, Elio looks up at Loki with a slight head-tilt, contemplating him for a moment. He could say a hundred things about being broken and wanting to be whole and how he's begun thinking the chase for that is a misunderstanding in its own right, but instead - to show his understanding - he steps a tiny bit closer and reaches up, brushing a flat palm down the other man's upper arm, shoulder to elbow. He has sharp elbows. Most people worth knowing do, is the one thing Elio has learned.

Maybe that makes him broken. Maybe it makes them all broken. ]

I'm beginning to think that being broken is the only way we can be ultimately whole people. Cracks add facets. Facets add value. We're all running around with cut gems for hearts.

[coldsong]

[There is something about the way he repeats Loki's words that is...affecting. Touching, perhaps, but that doesn't quite encompass the feeling. Precocious is right; there's something to this young man that speaks of--not innocence, but openness, coupled with a lot of thought going on behind those eyes. Loki would wager money people called him an 'old soul' as a little child, and didn't really know what the hell they meant by it.

And he, Loki, feels like he was born jaded.

The touch makes him go still. It's a strange gesture, kindly and intimate, and he wasn't prepared for that. Often he'll shrug off an unexpected touch with open disdain, but this one leaves him looking only a little bit puzzled, and not displeased.]

...that's a beautiful way to think about it. [His own experience with gems has been mixed, but it's undeniably a reassuring metaphor.] Especially since we can't help but take wounds as we go through the world. We all have cracks, or scars. It's certainly a kinder way to look at other people, checking for the facets of their hearts to watch them sparkle, rather than taking one look at the asymmetry and casting them aside.

[vigilly]

I'm not much of a treasure hunter. [ They're looking at each other very openly and Elio gets the distinct feeling that the man in front of him, asking him whether he's human and being perhaps more than that himself, is a little like Oliver, with that ever present underlying danger, the shifts between moods, the shifts between colors. Nothing steady about him. Nothing constant, except his existence on its own. Everyone's alive until they're not.

Everyone's loved until they're not.

Elio shakes his head hard, looking off to the side, hand falling back to his side. He has discarded many people. He has turned his back on so many, because he's always chasing the one diamond he can't have, the blood stone. ] I don't keep hearts, but I don't throw them away either. Let's say - I put them down gently where I found them, hoping my fingerprints are either easily washed off or partial, without consequence.

[coldsong]

[He is always Loki. But a Loki is a mercurial thing, changeable as a chameleon, but serving his own inner forces rather than taking the pattern of whatever he is placed upon. Often, the changes of his colors make him stand out more instead of dissolving into the background.]

Perhaps not, [he says mildly] but you know a treasure when you see one. That's not a bad start.

[Not that he's saying he's a treasure, himself. Loki feels more like a monkey's paw, a living object lesson. But beauty is in the eye of the beholder.] What of your own heart, then? It's wise to be gentle with your own, because so often others won't be.

[vigilly]

My own heart...

[ It's a mutter again, something that tiptoes out of his mouth, like an intimate revelation. Elio meets the other man's eyes, holding his gaze for a long, deep moment. A bit like a kiss, except no touching. And sometimes, he knows, no touching can be so much more effective. Wetting his lips once, biting the bottom one for a second before releasing that and a hard sigh, he shrugs, holding out both arms, like an invitation or a full display. Here it is, he means, all of me. ]

It's buried somewhere. Out of harm's way, but also hidden from others. From myself. I've got the map, but I don't go looking.