Talking in Circles

The Big Base, September 2021 
Misty is not stalking the jotun on Big Team. She’s confident about that. There’s nothing weird about being on the same team as someone and seeing each other in common areas, right? And if Misty pays a little more attention to Inge, that’s completely normal. Misty hadn’t really met a jotun before. Well, other than their father, but that was years ago, and sort of a special circumstance. A little curiosity is understandable; Misty has no idea what about her is normal for jotnar, what about her is human, and what about her is just...her. And so paying attention to Inge might be a way to start figuring that out. 
The point is that there’s nothing weird about the fact that Misty is hiding behind a corner and watching Inge finish his massive Icee. Nothing at all. 
There isn’t anything weird about Misty sneaking around. Inge understands that she can be quite intimidating sometimes, especially to those who have preconceived notions about what the Midgardians call “Norse Mythology” and she calls “highly edited historical narratives.” In Misty’s case, her clothing being emblematic of Loki makes it difficult to tell whether her loyalties lie with the Aesir, but Inge intends to be respectful yet firmly defensive of her people regardless of circumstance. Indeed, even if she is open-minded, it still must be weird to come across a being you only knew as fictional up until some feeble child with a penchant for imperialism tried to annex the local market.
She clears her throat. “Hello Misty! You are welcome to be joining me if you would be wishing to. Would you like an ICEE? I can be making only two flavors at the moment, but they are being just as good as the ones at the seven-beleven are, especially since the nearest one is now being several blocks away.”
Misty stiffens at being caught, half-pulling back behind the wall but catching herself. The part of her that had been rokkr reminds her that a warrior doesn’t run from battle, and while Misty;s certainly done a lot of that, she hopes this isn’t a battle. She really, really hopes it isn’t a battle. And also, she really does want an ICEE. 
“Uh, hi,” she says, slipping into the main room and leaning against the wall, hoping that makes her look cool and nonchalant or something like that. “And...sure, if you’re offering? I’m not gonna turn down a free ICEE. I’m not picky with flavors, either.” 
Inge nods. “Excellent, come.” He pours out a blue raspberry drink. “This one, being sour but also sweet, matches what the Midgardians are calling “your vibes.”
“I’m not sweet,” Misty protests immediately, but takes the ICEE and sucks in a long drink.
As soon as Misty grabs the drink Inge grins brightly.
“Good, now we can speak freely. In Jotunn tradition the sharing of drink is representative of an intent to aid not harm. I am hoping you are sharing this sentiment? Given your friendship with Her Highness Angraxaethe you are seeming open minded. At any rate, you seem to be curious about the culture of Loki, given your choice of costuming and stalking target. If you would be willing to be accepting assistance in this matter I would be happy to share my knowledge. Friendship is also being on the table if this is being something you want. I would like it, to be clear, but I am understanding this is not always possible given the, ah, everything” 
Misty sputters at Inge’s declaration of truce, pulling the straw out of her mouth and giving Inge a long look. 
“I know manners,” she sniffs. “I know what breaking bread--or sharing mead, or, uh, ICEEs, means.” She takes another drink of it, mostly to hide the look of surprise on her face at the rest, processing the offer to tell Misty about Lokean culture. Which, uh...Misty’s not sure how to react. She’s pretty sure she knows about Loki, thanks, but she’s not sure she wants Inge to know that. Not unless she’s sure that Inge is cool with a lot of things. 
The end of Inge’s statement, though, catches Misty off-guard and her head whips back around to stare at Inge. 
“What do you mean, not possible given the--given everything about you? Why wouldn’t people want to be friends with you? Did someone say that?” Almost without her realizing, her hackles have raised; her lips pull back off of her teeth, exposing the points of them before she catches herself and looks away. “Anyway. Uh. I was wondering--I mean, I know things. About Loki--not because I’m a fangirl,” she defends quickly, remembering Inge’s assumption, and no, absolutely not. “But, uh...I wondered if you’d mind telling me some stuff, yeah. About...well. About Jotunheim?” 
Gods and giants, she sounds ridiculous asking about this. This isn’t the confident, assured way she’d thought about getting information. Okay, she hadn’t really had a plan, but she’d had an idea of how she would do it, and this wasn’t the tone of that idea at all.
But Inge had offered first, and had offered to share drinks with Misty. So there’s a truce. And even though Inge had seemed...put off, a bit, by Misty’s choice of Lokean icons, he doesn’t seem that way now. So maybe…
“...and a little bit about, uh. What they say about Loki in Jotunheim? If you don’t mind,” she adds, self-conscious and hating it. 
Inge looks at Misty for a long, long time. Before she can start squirming or backtracking though, Inge speaks. 
“I believe I am seeing why you are coming to me now. We are being kindred spirits in the realm of humans who are not willing to look past our pointiness. I am respecting this, and I am trusting that you are not going to be using any information I am telling you to harm my people. Not that this is my first assumption!” She blushes.
“To be quite honest, I am often unsure what to be doing when someone approaches me with preconceived notions. It is hard work to be undoing the biases of those who cling to them for comfort, and the longer I stay on Midgard the more weary I grow. It is...nice, to be meeting someone who has a base of knowledge but not the extras that are coming with it more often than not.”
She slurps the last few drops of ICEE in her cup, throws it away, and switches from hoverchair to crutches. At her full height, Inge is still fairly average sized in comparison to Midgardians, let alone other Jotnar. Most onlookers get the sense that she’s probably considered pretty short on Jotunheim, though only the least kind actually say anything to that effect. 
Inge approaches Misty. “Before my explanation, I am owing you an apology.” She holds out a rune. “This is known as Nauthiz, the need-fire. I pulled a rune prior to, ah, confronting? That is seeming too confrontational but approach is also incorrect as you are the one approaching me? At any rate, before this conversation, I am pulling a rune. I did not look at it, and I did not pull from my magic until the moment prior to my beginning speaking just now. This rune allowed me to sense not the truth of your words, but the most core truth of your desire. You are wishing to understand that which you feel connected to on a spiritual level, and I am happy to provide the understanding you desire. Though, admittedly it would help if you ask a more specific question or two first.”
She rubs her thumbs against the hand-holds on her crutches in a gesture reminiscent to rubbing the back of one’s neck in sheepishness. “I am understanding if you are no longer wishing to speak with me. The use of magic without knowledge is a violation even in a setting where it is to be expected, and I apologize for the breach of boundary. You just...confuse me, for reasons I do not yet fathom. Not in a negative way, but I am too wary to conclude that my feelings are immediately positive.” She sighs. “Guardedness was the first lesson I learned on Jotunheim, and Midgard has only strengthened that instinct.”
Misty’s eyes do widen at the rune pull, but more out of interest than out of any sort of offense; her hackles raise, a little, when Inge admits that the rune allowed her to read what Misty’s actual intentions were--but after the apology, and the mention of guardedness, her shoulders fall back down again and she lets out a long breath, and then takes a long drag on the ICEE straw. 
“I mean, I can’t really get mad at you,” she settles on, shoulders lowering. “Or even blame you. You gotta look out for yourself, especially when you’re...well, when you’re someone like us. And I’m not--I wouldn’t use anything you said to hurt you or your people. I think enough people are probably trying to do that already, and they’ve been the ones who are telling all the stories about you for, oh, ages and ages, right? Asgard’s really good at making sure they’re the good guys all the time.” 
Misty’s tone is bitter, but not toward Inge. “So I get the guardedness. I...well. I don’t know if I’ve got any sort of...spiritual connection to this. Or Jotunheim. I guess that’s part of what I’m trying to figure out?” It’s so hard to talk about this without bringing up things that are dangerous to bring up, but...if anyone would understand, maybe this is the person, right? 
Or maybe Misty is about to make a huge, huge, huge mistake, and should get out of here as soon as possible. There’s no way to tell. 
Inge squints at Misty at the use of the collective pronoun. “Us”? What is there to be experienced jointly in being a frost gia--wait. Wait. 
Inge runs a few quick calculations in her mind. Midgardian child with a strong attachment to frost giants, and Loki in particular. Understandable, given he is the only Jotun with actual characterization beyond Vague Evilness found in the mythos available on this realm. Could she have...no. No. That was impossible. Jotnar rarely travelled realms, and even when they did they  very rarely had reason to travel to Midgard. In fact, the only Jotun Inge knew who had was...
Wait.
No, okay, Inge had to think about this logically. There were countless Jotnar in the other Woods who may or may not be more connected to other realms than those in the Iron Wood. The Obsidian Wood with their emphasis on commerce might in particular generate the environment in which a few more stragglers than most other regions might travel in search for trade. He could see how the capitalist social structures of Midgard would appear appealing in their exploitability to those Jotnar.
He really really hoped he didn’t have to explain to this eco-punk child that her parent might be an interdimensional robber baron. 
“For a more specific question, uh...okay.” Misty takes a deep breath, wanting Inge to understand that she’s taking this seriously. “I swear by the side of a ship and the rim of a shield, the back of a horse and the edge of a blade, that I will not use anything you say here against you or yours.” The vow reverberates, if only to Misty; it’s not something she’s swearing idly, but she understands the need to be sure the person you’re talking to isn’t going to hurt you, if you tell them something important. 
“What do you think of Loki?” Because damn, the answer to that is going to determine how a lot of the rest of this conversation goes.
Inge is unfamiliar with the oath invoked, given its likely Asgardian origins, but he does his best to indicate acknowledgement and reciprocate in kind as he feels is appropriate. “I swear by the frosts that crest the waves of the seas, the scent of fir on the wind, the flame which dances in my blood, and the ever-shifting soils of the earth that I will speak wholly truthfully, and harm neither you nor your family through what I learn today.”
He sighs. Now the hard part. “Loki is...seen in different ways depending on the person you ask, as I assume is true everywhere they are known. They are, in my opinion, quite charming and witty. I am liking their sense of humor, though their sense of propriety leaves, ah, much to be desired.” He thinks back to the last time he saw his step-grandparent of sorts dancing with Grandmother. It was...sweet, if enlightening in ways that he wishes he had never been enlightened. Ah, speaking of. “My grandmother is quite fond of him. Have you by any chance read of an, ah, “giantess” named Angrboda in your Midgardian literatures?”
It is at this moment Inge realizes the use of “us” earlier could have been metaphoric for outcast peoples in general. He resists the urge to spiral into another string of theories in order to hear Misty’s response. 
Inge’s face has gone on a voyage, and Misty sips anxiously at her ICEE and waits, trying not to catastrophize. What if the silence is leading up to Inge telling Misty to fuck off? What if there’s some big inter-Jotunheim conflict that Misty is sticking her nose into that she doesn’t know about because she doesn’t know about Jotunheim? What if she finishes this ICEE before Inge says anything again and then doesn’t have anything to do to fill the awkward silence?? 
When Inge does speak, though, Misty can’t help leaning towards him, eyes wide and drinking in every single word. It’s...rare, that she gets descriptions of her father that are mostly positive, or at the very least which don’t come prefaced with disclaimers. It’s even rarer that she talks to someone, she realizes as Inge goes on, who has met her father in person. And still likes him! 
She can’t hide her grin, and doesn’t even find the time to worry about whether or not her canines are too sharp or look unsettling. The comment about his sense of humor gets a happy, small bounce on the cushions, a half-controlled vibration of utter delight. 
She’s not prepared, then, for her brain to screech to an utter halt as the combined implication of the last two sentences hit her all at once. Inge’s grandmother is--
“YourgrandmotherisAngrboda????” 
It comes out as more of a squeak than a question as Misty overbalances on the sofa, nearly toppling to the ground. 
Inge sighs. This is what she was worried about. 
“Yes, but I promise she’s not that bad! I am knowing your books are portraying her alternately as either the root of all evils or a Hot Lesbian Dominatrix Cult Leader--” and I am unsure which is worse, she mutters under her breath, “--but really, she is being a dork? She is liking animals, which is understandable since she is able to be speaking to them and shifting into the forms of a select few. She is having a companion hawk who--wait.” 
Inge thinks back to the last few times she’s seen her grandmother with this particular, cantankerous hawk that seemed to respond to things in ways a bit too...people-like, for someone with only a passing proficiency in Animal Tongues. “She is having a companion hawk who likely has been Loki in disguise this whole time who has been hearing me say things about wanting my step grandfather to be liking me. Fuck. Um. Oh dear.”
She sighs. “This is besides the point, however. Angrboda can be stern, but she is generally very kind. Rather like what I am understanding the Ellens to be like, but if they were what you are calling “stone butch” and appearing in their early fifties.”
Misty has been staring at Inge for most of this, a hard-to-read expression on her face after she caught herself on the couch’s armrest. She is...not used to being in this situation. At all. And as she’s trying to figure out how to deal with it, Inge comes to his realization about the hawk, and Misty can’t stop the fond laugh that is pulled out of her. 
“That sounds like something he’d do,” she admits, because man, it really does. 
“She--Angrboda--sounds amazing. Sorry if uh, my--” she searches for the right word. “Reaction? Made you think I thought she was evil. I, uh, I don’t. At all. I was surprised about--” oh man, where to start with this? “I was surprised about something else.” That sounds like the exact kind of thing that someone who did think Inge’s grandma was evil and was trying to cover it up would say. Shit. Misty is really bad at this. 
“Shit. I guess I--okay, uh, can I just take this from the beginning?” She asks plaintively, and then pulls her voice down, even though she’s sure nobody else is anywhere near this room. “Hi. My name’s, well,” Gods and giants, has she ever introduced herself to someone with her full name? Has it ever seemed safe to? “It’s Mistilteinn. Uh, Mistilteinn Isaac Hawthorne, most of the time, but also Mistilteinn Lokisdottir. I. Uh, I think you know my dad.” 
She sits, awkwardly, bracing herself for whatever the reaction is going to be. 
Inge blinks at her. He slowly moves a hand to one of his crutches, then moves it back up to rest at his side again.
“Okay. I am not used to displaying affection in this manner, but I am knowing Midgardians are liking this, so Auntie Misty, please be forgiving me if any twigs are digging into your back or something.”
With that, he sweeps Misty into a hug. He pulls back just as quickly, but stays within arms length. “Oh, shooting! I forgot to ask. Was this being okay? Are your boundaries being respected? Am I being overly familiar? I am so sorry, I am just very excited about meeting actual, real, not a massive dick family on Midgard!”
It has been a hot second since Misty’s gotten a hug, which is the only reason that she doesn’t respond right away when Inge starts one. The second he pulls back, though, Misty follows to wrap her arms around his chest--awkwardly, due to the over-a-foot height difference--and pull Inge into a hug again. 
“Hugs are good,” she manages, a little muffled before she finds a way to orient herself where she can speak in a way that isn’t directly into Inge’s shirt. “I, uh. I--haven’t really met any. Family. So I don’t know how familiar you’re supposed to be but--I like hugs. A lot. Hugs are good.” And it’s been way too long. “And, uh. I’m really excited to meet you too. I mean, I was before, but--I didn’t--” Her thoughts are coming too fast for her to figure out how to say them, and she keeps cutting herself off. 
“I didn’t think we were family, but I’m really glad we are, because you’re cool,” is what she settles on, although it’s woefully inadequate. “I, uh--well, I grew up here, with my other dad. So I don’t--I don’t know a lot about. Jotunheim. Or--well, i don’t know a lot. At all.” It hurts less to admit than she thought it would. 
Inge leans into the second hug with gusto. She’s new to this, but she thinks she likes it a great deal. “I’m glad you are thinking so. I am thinking they are good too. And meeting family is interesting! Sometimes it is annoying when it is little siblings trying to ruin everything you have ever worked for because they are whiny, but this is not that. You are also interesting, so I am glad these two meetings are overlapping.”
“We would have been Siblings of the Wild had we not shared a more direct connection. If you are having Jotun blood, you are as Jotun as you want to be, and we are welcoming you. So we would have been family in a metaphorical sense regardless, but the literal sense is nice too!”
She blushes a bit before continuing. “It is very interesting that you were raised here. I am actually being here on an exchange program, and would very much be interested in your stories. Would you like to have a cultural exchange?”
Misty blinks. She’s never really thought of a Midgard-Jotunheim cultural exchange as a thing that could happen, but now that she thinks about it, she supposes there’s no reason for it not to happen. And she really wants to know more about Jotunheim. 
“Sure! I mean, as much as I can.” it’s probably best to be upfront with this, right? So Inge doesn’t think Misty knows more than she does? “I was only here ‘till I was like, twelve, and then I was in Niflheim for three years? And then I came back, but that was pretty recent. So there’s a lot of recent stuff I don’t know the full story behind. But other than that, if you want to know stuff about Midgard and I actually know it, sure.” 
Inge nods. “I will have to ask you more about Niflheim later, as I believe some things happened there recently that I am not knowing about,” he hedges, though he’s not sure he really wants to open that massive can of worms anytime soon. “However, the most important thing I have to ask is this: what is your opinion of Midgardian cuisine as opposed to foods found in other regions, and do you find yourself satisfied after consuming it. I am...struggling, I admit, due to my unique biology.”
“I...haven’t really thought about it. It was always food from home, you know? And that always tastes good,” Misty admits. “And when I was in Niflheim it wasn’t exactly, uh, fine dining or whatever. I’ve always eaten a lot, though, but I’m not sure if that’s being, y’know, a growing kid, or being not-all-human, or a weird combination of them?” she waves her hand, vaguely, trying to indicate the nebulous disaster that is probably her genetics. 
“I’m not good with like, people biology. I like chemistry and maybe plants if they’re very cool plants. But also, I grew up here, so there’s a chance that it’s a familiarity thing? I”m used to getting food here so food here tastes normal and good to me? I dunno.” 
Inge nods again, looking very much like she wants to be taking notes right now. “Okay, in that case, could you be recommending dishes or restaurants to try? I feel as though the foods you gravitate towards will likely be sufficiently satisfying in large enough quantities, and I will no longer have to resort to drinking five super big gulps worth of liquid sugar per day. They are delicious but get monotonous after a time.”
She pauses, then continues more hesitantly, “Also perhaps we could be hosting dinner parties with her Ferocious Highness Angraxaethe, since you are being friends with her? I would like to be making the acquaintance of your close compatriots.”
Misty brightens at the mention of Angraxaethe. 
“Sure! To both of them, I mean. I can definitely point you toward food I like, and we can see if that works, and Angy’s awesome. You have horns, so she’ll probably like you.” For a moment, Misty worries that Angy will think Inge is cooler than her, but pushes the thought away. She and Angy blew up a 7-b11 together. That’s an unbreakable bond, probably. “But in general, I’m super down for a cultural exchange if you’re okay with telling me stuff about Jotunheim! Like, any stuff, really. I just…I’ve never gotten to go there. I wanna know what it’s like.” 
Inge nods. “Of course! I cannot be taking you there for a while unfortunately, but I can be informing Grandmother of your circumstances so that she can be hosting you if you would like. In the mean time, would you like to be discussing over dinner? I admit to being eager to begin our experimentation.”
Misty’s eyes widen at the concept of not only getting to visit Jotunheim but getting to meet one of her father’s other partners, and she can’t stop herself from giving the same excited small bounce as when Inge complimented Loki’s sense of humor. “I would love that. Both the invitation, and also grabbing dinner.” Did Misty just finish off an ICEE the size of her head? Yes. Can she now eat a full meal? Yes. “Let’s go get Angy—I think she’s in her hoard room, I’ll show you where it is!” 
Excited and full of sugar, Misty hurries to the door. A promise of information about Jotunheim, friends to eat dinner with, and—most important—a new nephew. Niece. Niecephew? Yeah, Niecephew. This all went so much better than she had planned. 
Category:Scenes
Category:Mistletoe
Category:Inge