liesmith-loki:

iamthefirechild:

liesmith-loki:

iamthefirechild:

“Laughing with me, then. Got it.” Summer levered herself up off the floor. “Well, I can take a hint when Cat glares it at me. I’ll just be out of y’all’s way.” She checked in the bag to make sure it was empty, flashed Loki a half-smile, and stepped to the door.

Loki rose, bending first to scoop up Macrowafter.
“Thank you for the gifts.  Cat is definitely appreciative.”

She gave him another half-smile, hand on the doorknob. “You’re welcome. I … I’m sorry I couldn’t make it up to you any better.” A half-shrug went with the half-smile. “Let me know if you need anything else, alright? I’m … ” her gaze turned inward, “I’m always in.”

Loki shook his head, uneasy with the mention of their past encounter.
“I thank you, as does Macrowafter.” 

Another flash of that smile. “Be well, Loki.” And she was out the door.

liesmith-loki:

iamthefirechild:

liesmith-loki:

i-am-the-firechild:

“Just like your papa,” she told him, and put a pile of treats on the floor a foot away. “All standoffish. Must be inherited.” Sighing, she stroked the top of Cat’s head with a fingertip, looking up in time to catch Loki’s expression.

“Are you laughing at me? You are! You’re laughing at me.” She tried — and failed — to imitate Cat’s indignant expression.

Loki’s smile tightened, a dimple appearing in his cheek.  
“No.  I am not.  I am, in truth, glad to see that Cat gives this treatments to others aside from myself.” 

“Laughing with me, then. Got it.” Summer levered herself up off the floor. “Well, I can take a hint when Cat glares it at me. I’ll just be out of y’all’s way.” She checked in the bag to make sure it was empty, flashed Loki a half-smile, and stepped to the door.

Loki rose, bending first to scoop up Macrowafter.
“Thank you for the gifts.  Cat is definitely appreciative.”

She gave him another half-smile, hand on the doorknob. “You’re welcome. I … I’m sorry I couldn’t make it up to you any better.” A half-shrug went with the half-smile. “Let me know if you need anything else, alright? I’m … ” her gaze turned inward, “I’m always in.”

liesmith-loki:

i-am-the-firechild:

liesmith-loki:

i-am-the-firechild:

“Let’s put it this way: do you want to stop it happening again?” Summer eyed the frayed cat-art with a wry face, and reached once more for the canvas bag. “Here’s where the treats will truly come in handy.” Clippers in one hand, she swiftly swept Cat into her lap and pinioned him there with elbow and knees. “Give paw, Cat. Hold still and this won’t hurt. Watch, Loki … see how if I press gently just here,” she demonstrated, “his claw pops out,” snip, “and then it’s done. Cat has black claws, so you have to be really really careful about how deep you cut, because you won’t be able to see where the blood vessel lies.”

Laying down the clippers, she produced, like magic, yet another item from the bag, this one a pouch of the same treats she bought for her own cats. “Yes, yes, I know you are offended Cat. Here.” She offered the indignant kitten a tuna-flavoured crunchy treat.

Cat had protested volubly as Summer had clipped his claws, and now he gave the treat—and Summer—an offended look, refusing to accept it right away.  Loki put a hand to his face, hiding his smile.

“Just like your papa,” she told him, and put a pile of treats on the floor a foot away. “All standoffish. Must be inherited.” Sighing, she stroked the top of Cat’s head with a fingertip, looking up in time to catch Loki’s expression.

“Are you laughing at me? You are! You’re laughing at me.” She tried — and failed — to imitate Cat’s indignant expression.

Loki’s smile tightened, a dimple appearing in his cheek.  
“No.  I am not.  I am, in truth, glad to see that Cat gives this treatments to others aside from myself.” 

“Laughing with me, then. Got it.” Summer levered herself up off the floor. “Well, I can take a hint when Cat glares it at me. I’ll just be out of y’all’s way.” She checked in the bag to make sure it was empty, flashed Loki a half-smile, and stepped to the door.

liesmith-loki:

i-am-the-firechild:

liesmith-loki:

i-am-the-firechild:

Summer nodded to Cat. “He seems pretty happy to me.” She brushed a fingertip over one black ear, causing him to startle. Equally gently she brushed kitten and master with her power.

Cat rolled over and seized her finger in fierce paws, little claws pricking her skin as he tried to drag her finger to his mouth—a little mewling growl rumbling his whole self all the while.

Loki was sitting with a faint smile upon his face—but Summer’s power met with a blank wall, a facade of nothingness.

A soft smile curving her mouth, Summer looked down at Cat and shook her finger a tiny bit in his mouth. “You’re a precious boy, Loki’s heart. You guard it well, understand?” she murmured. He just licked her finger and tried to chew on it again. “Yes, yes, popsicle finger.”

“I brought a set of clippers as well, if he tries to claw your furniture.”

Loki pointed down at the bottom of the sofa.  
“I fear that measure may be—ah, what is the saying?  ’Shutting the barn door after the horse has made good his escape’?”
Indeed the furniture was already well scratched and worn by small claws. 

“Let’s put it this way: do you want to stop it happening again?” Summer eyed the frayed cat-art with a wry face, and reached once more for the canvas bag. “Here’s where the treats will truly come in handy.” Clippers in one hand, she swiftly swept Cat into her lap and pinioned him there with elbow and knees. “Give paw, Cat. Hold still and this won’t hurt. Watch, Loki … see how if I press gently just here,” she demonstrated, “his claw pops out,” snip, “and then it’s done. Cat has black claws, so you have to be really really careful about how deep you cut, because you won’t be able to see where the blood vessel lies.”

Laying down the clippers, she produced, like magic, yet another item from the bag, this one a pouch of the same treats she bought for her own cats. “Yes, yes, I know you are offended Cat. Here.” She offered the indignant kitten a tuna-flavoured crunchy treat.

liesmith-loki:

i-am-the-firechild:

liesmith-loki:

i-am-the-firechild:

Several days later, Summer hesitated, then tapped firmly on Loki’s door. She’d wrangled with herself for most of those days, in between dreaming in code and setting things, virtual and actual, on fire, and finally concluded that regardless of anything else, she owed him an apology.

The fact that said apology consisted mostly of supplies for Macrowafter was utterly irrelevant.

Heart pounding, trying to look suitably contrite, she waited.

There was a thud from behind the door, and the mixed vocal protestations of Cat and Loki alike.
“—wouldn’t stand right behind me like that, I wouldn’t step on your tail!” Loki was saying as he opened the door, glowering down at Macrowafter, who was standing a little ways away with his bright eyes fixed on Loki, offended dignity in every line of his little body.

Looking up at Summer, he assumed a neutral expression.  
“Miss Summer.  To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I, um, I came to apologise.” Summer ducked her head, canvas bags swinging from one hand. “I … said some really inexcusable things last time, and I’m sorry.” Looking up at Loki, her mouth quirked a bit, and a little hope, a little laughter crept into her eyes. “Do you have an altar I should lay my offerings at?”

Loki’s glower had lightened somewhat as she spoke—and the last sentence brought a smile and an appreciative gleam to his eyes.
“No.  I have no altar, but Macrowafter seems to think he deserves one.  Come in and he will tell you what he would like you to do.”
As if on cue, Cat rose and trotted into the parlor, mewing imperiously. 

Summer laughed a little, out of relief as much as anything, and followed the little black kitten. Setting one bag on the floor, she delved into it and emerged with a handful of fuzzy, brightly coloured things — toy mice. The other hand came up with another mouse-shape, but a dark green-brown. This one she held out and waggled at Cat, before spreading them all out on the floor.

The next thing to appear out of the bag was a smallish paper box. “I brought an offering for the master, too. I hope you like chocolate.” She rose, and held out the box with a hopeful smile.

liesmith-loki:

i-am-the-firechild:

liesmith-loki:

i-am-the-firechild:

“You have changed.” Summer let her voice turn cutting, mocking. “Time was, you’d not run away from a mere mortal, a human. From mere words. You want me to fear you, yet you’re the one fleeing!”

Loki’s laugh was the only thing she heard, even as the door banged shut behind him.

Several days later, Summer hesitated, then tapped firmly on Loki’s door. She’d wrangled with herself for most of those days, in between dreaming in code and setting things, virtual and actual, on fire, and finally concluded that regardless of anything else, she owed him an apology.

The fact that said apology consisted mostly of supplies for Macrowafter was utterly irrelevant.

Heart pounding, trying to look suitably contrite, she waited.

There was a thud from behind the door, and the mixed vocal protestations of Cat and Loki alike.
“—wouldn’t stand right behind me like that, I wouldn’t step on your tail!” Loki was saying as he opened the door, glowering down at Macrowafter, who was standing a little ways away with his bright eyes fixed on Loki, offended dignity in every line of his little body.

Looking up at Summer, he assumed a neutral expression.  
“Miss Summer.  To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I, um, I came to apologise.” Summer ducked her head, canvas bags swinging from one hand. “I … said some really inexcusable things last time, and I’m sorry.” Looking up at Loki, her mouth quirked a bit, and a little hope, a little laughter crept into her eyes. “Do you have an altar I should lay my offerings at?”