my-modus-operandi:

 

               _{That smile upon his lips acted as a herald for her to be distrustful. Not that she wouldn’t have been so careful in the first place, but she was thankful for the further jurisdiction. Of course.}

               _{But this meeting intrigued her, beyond a shadow of a doubt, as much as it did him. Perhaps past that level. Though, in this case, she of course couldn’t be sure.}

                _{Which sometimes, she was thankful for.}

                                      _{W i t h   h i m ?} 

                                                           _{;; …Not so much.}

                                            _{It made her, admittedly,  n e r v o u s .}

                             _{Even more so than she might have otherwise been.}

               _{Upon her name leaving his lips, she resisted the urge to swallow, forcing a smile to her countenance, as she nodded slightly, accepting the compliment, thanking him for it with two small movements of her lips.}

               _{Admittedly, despite herself, she likes the way he speaks. As if in riddles, encouraging her to think for herself, make her own mind, it being impossible to be tarnished by opinions which, really, oppose hers.}

                                         _{Because, sometimes, that happens.}

                                            _{She doesn’t like it to, but it does.}

               _{After grey eyes flickered the opposite side, she looked back up at the Trickster, biting back a smile that threatened to grow on darkly rouged lips.}

                                      _{"Am I really so predictable already?”}

               _{Licking her lips absent-mindedly, the Duchess gave a small nod of her head, before cocking it to the side.}

                              _{“And yourself? Such a place is ‘ardly vhere one vould expect to come across ze likes of yourself.”}

                                      _{Ah, Loki would have came to expect humour from a Demon. Of course he must. When a creature has everything they need; and are fully able to indulge in any sin they wished; it’s often wise to think of receiving sarcasm, or the works. Something about her told him he would’t, perhaps, have received that, upon their initial meeting; but clearly, he was most wholly incorrect about that.}

            _{An inclination of amusement parried through his expression, and emerald hues remained outwardly transfixiated upon her.}

                        _{“Quite the contrary,” Loki half purrs, his voice laced with sedative and poison, yet dormantly so, it seemed, at this moment in time. “I would deem you as someone most wholly unpredictable.”}

      _{To that, he is reminded all too suddenly of his reason for being here. A flicker of irritation makes its presence known along the contours of his defined face, at the thought of that failed spell, and he makes yet another mental note to fix it.}

   _{"Issues, here and there, with my exploits into the realms of the ethereal,“ he explains, calmly enough. Within that, his hand raises, and his outer armour fades from vision; leaving him clad in the usual black, smoky, dark green, and leather robes. "Even Iam plagued with failure on this front, no thanks to those quims who allowed it. Of that, I feel I may as well admit now.”}

 _{"I was aiming to teleport elsewhere. My sources of knowledge on such spells must clearly be incorrect.“}

_{Nothing Loki says can ever be taken seriously. For he lies, all the time; and he lies so fervently and so often, that he simply forgets he's doing it.}

my-modus-operandi:

 

                              _{Dark haired, pale eyed, and tall, both stand, but that, seemingly, is where the similarities end.} 

                              _{She is, physically - though perhaps more than simply physically- , s o f t e r. Her silhouette slopes gracefully, never a sharp moment in her body or countenance, except in her eyes, which seem to stand out from the rest of her - Pale,  w i d e, and age-old, as they watch the God cautiously.}

                              _{Of course, she herself dips her chin also, her feet crossing over and knees bending slightly, the remnants of a curtsey that died out years ago.}

               _{”Simply Dantalion is fine,” she replied, standing back straight, ensuring her shoulders remain back, instead of in their usual position.  R e s p e c t   is something hard to obtain from those of power, and one must put effort even in the  s m a l l e s t   details, this she knows. “Or even Dante, if you prefer.”}

                       _{She doesn’t particularly care any more. What was the quote?}

   'What's in a name? A rose by any other would smell as sweet?'

           _{Though, of course, sweet was hardly an apt word. Nor would she say it was.}

                                                               _{”—Oh, I don’t believe zat in ze slightest.”}

     _{He will continue to smile, of course; some form of divinity, however malicious and twisted it sat, curving his lips into that look of utter mistrust and manipulation. It intrigues him, beyond all recognition of the word and fore factor, to have such a meeting.}

                  _{Loki, himself, is known to be a Master of Dark Magic. And to meet a harbringer of this such thing; but   e x p a n d i n g upon that, to levels even  h e  found challenging to comprehend?}

          _{Oh, it was like Christmas. Christmas, in that his little gateway to information about the world of Darkness his adversary heralded from, was, possibly, not simply a soldier, but a}

                                     D u c h e s s.

           _{"Dantalion,“ he will repeat, the word gracing his tongue like sweet wine. "I must admire your choice of name. It’s elegant.”}

    _{“And why not?” Loki hums, his voice a melodrama of the chiming of tarnished bells. “My dear, there is nothing foul about the things I speak. I fear, shouldthere be, I may come out of such a thing… not quite so lightly.”}

         _{A short, sideward glance to the confines of the alleyway, and he is left with the knowledge that they are still, in fact, alone. For a moment, he appears pensive.}

     _{"What fates have brought me to you this day, must clearly have a reason for hand,“ he states. "Is it the want of souls you stalk these alleyways for?”}

my-modus-operandi:

 

                      _{“I’ve been ‘ere far too long.”}

       _{Shrugging, she sighed, shaking her head.}

                    _{“Vhatever gave you zat idea?”}

            _{A laugh passes thin lips.}

        _{“I would be so, should I be in your position. Such simple minded mortals can… drive you insane, can they not?”}

my-modus-operandi:

 

                     _{It isn’t her intention to patronize him, not really. She knows that doing so wouldn’t end well for her, were she to step too far over that line. Still, sometimes, it came naturally.}

                 _{Apparently, she’d been spending a little too much time with Shax.}

                                             _{It was that which she blamed.}

                                                   _{”Zen don’t answer eet.”}

                    _{For a moment, she deliberated stepping back as he did forward, but instead, she does the exact opposite, soft features turned upwards, lips pursed as she considers her answer to his question.}

                                        _{“My   b u s i n e s s   keeps me ‘ere.”}

                    _{She mirrors that look of his, her own brow raising slightly, the corners of her lips twitching slightly.}

                    _{Upon hearing of his knowledge of her court, she isn’t surprised, and so licked her lips, though much of what he says - she knows - isn’t true in the slightest. It is terrible, yes, and cruel - but not all of it.}

                                                  _{“I am ze Zeventy-first.”}

                  _{The two of them are quite opposing of one another physically, it seems. Where the demon afore him attends more to a rounded physique, Loki himself, is that of a pointed one; sharp of jawline and razor of cheekbone. They are, however, quite alike; despite their dissimilarities.}

                                      _{Loki, perhaps, finds it intriguing.}

           _{He is to raise a brow at the word ‘business’, and he is to let it slide downward slightly, at the mention of her number.}

                  _{The tip forward of his head is a sign of respect, if anything.}

                                _{“My Duchess,” he hums, in a light tone; a smile bleeding upon his lips; but it feels oddly mocking. Of course, Loki is not mocking her; his voice simply warbles in such an essence; but it’s there, none the less.}

  _{“I can only hope to match my humble godliness to that of your omnipotent devilry.”}

my-modus-operandi:

thentrustmyrage:

 

      _{“I-… cannot seem to understand the luster for it, when each year, nothing changes, what-so-ever…”}

              _{“‘Ow long, can I ask, ‘ave you been ‘ere?”}

                               _{”Because you’re about to learn zat not only is every Christmas ze same, but every day as vell.”}

    _{“… I have been here infrequently, for a due time of my life.}

                                           _{oh, but you seem bitter, Dantalion.”}

my-modus-operandi:

thentrustmyrage:

              _{” - I hate Christmas.”}

         _{”…Every year, the same.”}

      _{“I-… cannot seem to understand the luster for it, when each year, nothing changes, what-so-ever…”}

my-modus-operandi:

 

                _{It’s with a slight scowl that the thought registers that she is being examined. Mercilessly, no doubt, but this she is used to. However, she wasn’t one to make assumptions, and so remained still as she begun her own assessment.}

                  _{His own assumptions, though she doesn’t know it, are correct.}

                          _{She can only hope for the same for her own of him.}

                _{Loki - God of Mischief and Lies. That much, despite her limited knowledge of Norse Mythology, she knows. Snippets from stories, in addition to this, but nothing much.}

                                                _{But what of his character?}

                _{This she cannot receive from his thoughts, as they’re silent to her own senses. Instead, it’s body language, posture, expression, the state of his clothes…}

                                                            _{“Likevise.”}

        _{The knowing smile that spreads slowly across her lips is unavoidable.}

_{“…Might I ask vhy you ‘appen to be in ze South of England, razzer zan up  in Asgard?”}

                      _{An idle shrug passes over sharp shoulders, and the God; momentarily bored, of expression, is suddenly brought into awareness, that she sounded very… patronizing, in that sentence.}

     _{And if it’s a challenge; if it is any form of challenge, masked with delicacy; cloaked in innocent silk; he would always rise to it.}

                     _{"I have an overwhelming feeling that, answering that, may suit me ill,“ Loki responded with, a simple smile on his pointed features, as he steps forward.}

       _{"And if you ask, then should I be asking yourself, why you aren’t residing among fire, in your Hell?”}

                        _{A brow is raised to her, as if insinuating something, but, not quite.}

           _{"I have heard much of the ‘Goetic Court’. All of it terrible and cruel, and all of it, bitterly intriguing. Tell me, if you will; which of their number are you?“}

my-modus-operandi:

 

                      _{His parted lips do indeed truly contrast with her own, pressed together hard enough that they look rather thin, in comparison to their naturally rather full state.}

                      _{Not yet having had chance to have reapplied her lipstick, the rouge on her lips has faded slightly, even more so by the habit she has of pressing them together, or licking them.}

                     _{Her own eyes are smoky, as if surrounded by a thick mist of sorts, rather than possessing the clarity of his own. No - Dantalion’s have an  o p a q u e  quality, like fogged glass, through which you may look through, though the view will be blurred. Unclear.}

                     _{She chooses not to interrupt, and instead, to wait. To gather his opinion, his beliefs, and so, whilst she listened, her lips remained closed, though did indeed relax slightly.}

                                                                                    _{"You vould be  c o r r e c t .”}

                     _{Her voice was breathy as she spoke, before swallowing slightly as she continued to look up at him, chin raised ever so slightly. For a moment, those grey eyes of hers slowly, like a drop of ink soaking over damp paper.}

                     _{That ink then soaked though, eyes retaining the colour the dull colour they had been before.}

           _{As he examines her, he takes into account all the features that make her whole. Each minute detail, that he registers; and so many more. He imagines whom she may be. How important she may be. And he comes to the conclusion, that she is not as important as perhaps she ought to be. Perhaps she may become more important in the future. She seems… troubled, by things. Something that will not leave her, something that will never cease to plague her. Something that is painstaking and overwhelming. She is troubled by her family. Just as he, himself, is.}

                                  _{All of that, in a  m i l l i s e c o n d .}

       _{Of course, none of it, he knows.It would be naive of him to think it true.}

                    _{A smile, almost worthy of Hell itself, bleeds forth.}

                              _{“Dantalion,” he repeats.}

                                              _{“It is a pleasure.”}

my-modus-operandi:

 

_{Stubbornly, she waited, licking pursed lips in something akin to anticipation. It was rare that she didn’t know, especially when it concerned a being’s species.}

_{But she wasn’t in a rush, no - she had an eternity to wait, and some part of her believed him to have something similar as she stepped forward once more.}

_{Pushing her hair behind her ear, the Duchess cocked her head ever so slightly to the side, the smallest hint of a smirk crossing her lips.}

                                     _{”I ‘ope you can forgive my… intrusion.”}

_{Standing still now, she looked up at him - quite a feat due to the slightly above-average height of her vessel -, curiosity now at what she thought to be its peak. Indeed, she was… intrigued.}

                       _{”Dantalion,” she replied, chin rising slightly. “Of ‘ell.”}

                        _{Jotunheim… pressing her lips together, she nodded slightly, recognition flashing in her mind at the name. Mythology. Something that, though she’d read about, hadn’t looked into. Hadn’t truly believed.}

  _{Then again, her own existence was hardly believable to many’s standards either.}

             _{Of Hell, she says; her accent cloaking the words like smoke?}

                                             _Interesting.

         _{Lips parted, much oppose to her own, the silent breaths of the God fell from them, in his quiet intrigue. Through clear, glassy eyes, did the fruit of curiosity make it’s wanderlustful home; steadily setting their gaze along her frame, very shortly; settled on the divine between weighing up an opponent, and examining someone that may prove to be useful.}

                            _{“Hell,” he hummed. “Not-…. Helheim, however.”}

            _{His reverend gaze thinned with suspicion. “You are not of the… shall we say, mythology, I call my home and haven. You are of something quite similar, yes, but-… Jewish? Christian?}

                                       _{Something of Earth.”}

           _{He paused a moment, lips parted to speak all the more.}

                                                          _{“… and demonic.”}

my-modus-operandi:

 

                    _{It was slowly that, after a few moments, she arose to her feet, not taking her eyes from him. After all, the idea of him being an imminent thread wasn’t far fetched. Not in the slightest.}

                                 _{Most things could be considered threats, these days.}

                    _{She had been one of the first to notice, it seemed - most were apparently arrogant and ignorant enough to have only just come to that conclusion recently.}

                    _{Dusting herself off, still electing to not look away, Dantalion swallowed, her approach continuing to be one she breeched with caution, steely grey eyes looking him up and down.}

                    _{Even from his appearance, it was clear he wasn’t of this Earth. Not a mere assumption.}

                                   _{It wasn’t typical of Dantalion to make such things.}

                                          _{In fact, usually, it was  i m p o s s i b l e .} 

                    _{Even the language he spoke, she couldn’t be sure of, and so, instead of speaking yet, she simply waited.}

         _{It seemed, that both entity, was more than sure it would be the last to speak first; and the first, to speak last.}

           _{Loki would wait this minor storm out first. There was a raging inferno that existed within that woman; he already felt lashings of it’s power; and in Loki, there was a colossal storm. Perhaps not lightening, per say; but volatile hurricanes and monstrous earthquakes, to lay havoc to the world it comes into contact with; and, to anyone who may be bold enough to stand in it’s infernal way.}

            _{But he knew that the storm within did not holster his vague curiosity; and eventually; it got the better of him.}

   _{"My mistake,“ he says, an air of amusement in his melodic, Godly voice. "I wasn’t aware I would have been witnessed.”}

          _{Leather booted feet began to carry him; albeit, slowly; toward her, then; his movements rehearsed, and thought out, before made.}

                                 _{"I am Loki, of Jotunheim.“}