illness-fueled ponderings

[liugan]

I will grow my hair longer if I choose to, my dear writer. And as of right now, I do not choose to.

Do stop looking at it like that.

Comments

[liugan]

There is something wrong with you.

[fotlenke]

Whatever is "wrong" with me must be quite wonderful, because compared to you, I laugh and smile much more.

[liugan]

Ah, so I must be pleasantly enjoying my gloomy outlook while you suffer your happiness. How dreadful.

[fotlenke]

No. I'm saying that I accept whatever it is you claim is wrong with me, and I am all the more happy for it. Your gloomy outlook, as you call it, is by your claim.

[liugan]

Enjoy it while it lasts. One of these days, someone will slap you for showing them such images.

[fotlenke]

Oh, well, then I suppose I'll have no choice then but to...slap them right back!

[She sighs. Seriously, Loki. Keep up with the wit!]

[liugan]

[ It's two in the morning and we're sick, cut him some slack-! ]

Do try not to strain yourself.

[fotlenke]

[She cocks her head to the side, arching a brow--WAIT WHAT? YOU ARE UP AT TWO IN MORNING AND YOU'RE SICK?!]

I won't. I practice aerobics regularly at Mother's heed so that those painful situations can be avoided.

[liugan]

[ ... /crawls ... into ... bed ... ]

Aerobics for slapping people?

[fotlenke]

No. For limbs.

[And to demonstrate, she gets to the ground, on all fours like a crab, and then arches back, head brushing the floor, belly curving in a way that could only be achieved through continuous practice.]

See?

[liugan]

I stand by my original claim. There is something wrong with you.

[fotlenke]

[She drops to sitting on the floor, yawning.]

Hmmm. Yes. You stated that already.

[She then lowers her arms and reaches out to tug at his cape.]

Come sit with me, my Liesmith.

[liugan]

[ He nudges her hand away with his foot. ]

I'd rather not. The floor is dirty.

[fotlenke]

So is your tongue, but in certain worlds, I quite like it.

[Well now she's got you by your boot.]

[liugan]

And in other worlds, it is most dreadful.

[ Countdown until turning into smoke, three ... two ... ]

[fotlenke]

No. [She gets up from the floor, dusts off her dress's skirts, then starts walking in the opposite direction.] That's just you. Being a twit. And for revealing how abominably terrible you are with intimate conversations.

How I ever come to bear your children, I have no idea.

[liugan]

[ He laughs. ] This was intimate?

[ But he'll let her go on her way, and Loki will turn and head in the opposite direction. ] I've plenty of children as it is, lady Sigyn. As ... charming as you are, I'm afraid that is an offer I will have to decline.

Surely there will be another god of Mischief for you to make the same offer to, and he will be much obliged.

[fotlenke]

[She doesn't say anything, but boy, would she love to put him in a strangle hold. oooooh! He makes her so mad!

So she'll just settle with throwing a spell at him that'll make his hair grow to Rapunzel lengths.]

[liugan]

[ That's okay, he really liked Tangled. ]

[fotlenke]

[This is her stepping on the braid.]

[liugan]

[ Wow, rude. He's never stepped on her hair. Fine, he'll just turn into a crow and fly the coop. ]

[fotlenke]

[She's a petulant brat.

So she'll just go cling to Fandral.]