Loki Visits Freda

Recorded: May 10, 2014
Characters: Frigga, Loki
Location: Freda's House
Summary: Loki stops by Freda's for a visit.

The street where Freda lives is lined with Townhouses that are wall to wall with each other. No front yards, but some back yard space. The woman's house is alive with activity on the inside and there is music playing, though the curtains are closed so no one can see exactly what's going on inside. It's midday and the neighborhood is at its usual level of activity and foot traffic.

Loki is willing to bet Freda wouldn't remember every detail about him from their last meeting where he clung to the shadows, so he has shifted his appearance a bit to be more in line with someone of the age of sixteen. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and he wears the clothes Mike got him to help him blend in- a pair of black jeans and a t-shirt with the chaos symbol on it. Coming up to the house, he stands near the door, lifting a hand to knock, but hesitating. Should he just knock? Should he pretend to be pathetic so she would take pity on him? He backs away from the door and tries to make a decision.

The time for decisions is quickly upon Loki, because the door opens without prompt. Terry, the muscular teen with the budding mustache, steps out as if he intends to go somewhere but his movements are halted when he sees who's standing in his way. He squints as he recalls who he's looking at, then settles into the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. "Look who it is. The psycho who misses his dead mom. Get those clothes from the Emo Store?"

Loki squints at Terry and shrugs. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Why do you dislike me? I am no threat to you. I am not going to take her away from you, I simply wanted to talk to her then I will be on my way."

Terry rolls his eyes and chuffs at Loki, barely containing his smirk. "Do all the other psychos talk like that where you come from, freakazoid? You're whiny, and you talk weird. I bet you give all the bullies a raging hard-on."

"Terry," Freda calls from wherever she is indoors, "Don't leave the door open! Go or stay but close the door!"

Shaking his head, Terry shoulders his way past Loki and leaves the door open on his way down the sidewalk. "Loser."

"What is wrong with the way I speak? But yes, this is how people speak where I am from." Loki looks puzzled a moment, then frowns when the boy shoulders past him. He moves the fingers of one hand to use his telekinetic ability to trip the obnoxious little shit quite soundly. "Oh, hello, Freda Barker. I was just passing through when I encountered your ward. How have you been?"

Terry stumbles and falls forward. "What the hell," he grumbles as he picks himself up. He looks back at Loki with a glare of suspicion before continuing on his way.

"Loki, is that you," Freda calls. "I'm in the kitchen. Come in and close the door, please." Inside, the music is much louder and appears to be an upbeat rock song playing on a nearby radio. Four boys are sitting in the living room looking in the direction of a first-person shooter on a large-screen TV. There's food on a coffee table, and while three of the boys are eagerly digging in, one is sitting with his posture slouched and hands on his palms. He looks to be twelve and has short, dark hair. When he looks up briefly at the newcomer, it becomes easier to see that his features are quite similar to Loki when he was that age.

Loki skips up the steps and closes the door behind him gently. He offers an empty smile at the boy that looks up at him and enters the kitchen. "I am sorry if I am intruding. I was unaware that your home was located here. it is quite lovely." For a mundane mortal shack. "How are you? I will not take much of your time."

Freda chuckles as she turns away from the oven with a pan of fresh cookies in hand. "I pointed you in the direction of my house, Loki. How could you be 'unaware' that my home was here and still end up here? That would be an odd coincidence." She sets the pan on a counter and uses a metal spatula to retrieve one of the warm gooey chocolate chip cookies. "Here, try one. It's fresh-baked from scratch."

"I suppose you are right. That was a poor excuse." He takes one of the warm cookies and sniffs it curiously. "Thank you. I did not know you knew how to make such confections. I appreciate your offering." He takes a bite and looks around, listening to the sounds of the game in the other room. It doesn't sound like they're flinging birds. Hrm. "It has been a trying time lately, I suppose my mind isn't quite up to speed."

"We all have difficult times, Loki. That's why it's good to have a safe place you can go to for a while." Freda smiles at him, then transfers the cookies to some nearby cooling racks. "I'm sorry if things don't sound peaceful around here right now. We're having a going away party for Leslie. He's being transferred, and I just wanted him to know that he will be loved, and missed."

"It is all right, no need to apologize. It is your home and I am merely a temporary guest. How did you come to be in charge of this place? how long have you been here? Where did you live before this?" He fires off some questions trying to figure out of she remembers anything at all.

The woman chuckles at his sudden barrage of questions. "My goodness. Are you thinking about starting a foster home of your own? It is a very noble cause." Freda transfers the cookies from the cooling rack to a plate, then walks with them towards the living room. "I've been here for a long time. As long as I can remember. I wasn't always a foster mother, though. No, it's not something I started until after my husband passed away."

Freda sets the plate of cookies down alongside other treats resting on the coffee table. The boys glance at her briefly, but resume their first-person shooter as soon as she's no longer blocking the TV. It seems that they all look like younger versions of her son's back on Asgard: A fourteen-year-old Thor, a ten-year-old Balder, a thirteen-year-old Bragi, and of course the young Loki who continues to sulk by himself. Freda carries a cookie over to him and puts one arm around his shoulders, offering him a cookie with her free hand to make him feel better.

Loki watches with a slight frown. It's like looking back on his own childhood. Looking rather uncomfortable, he picks at his cookie. "Your husband? I am sorry. What happened to him? " He falls silent when she puts an arm around the boy's shoulders. "You must be very good at it to raise them on your own."

Once Leslie has taken the cookie, Freda gives his shoulders a light squeeze and pulls away. Then she looks at Loki. "This is… Probably an inappropriate time to be asking or answering such questions," she notes and gives a minor glance to the four foster children still sitting around the house. Talking about dead relatives around potential orphans… Not really a good idea. "Would you like to stay for the party, Loki? I'll be cooking dinner as soon as Terry gets back with some groceries I asked him to pick up."

"Oh, nono, I wouldn't want to intrude. I can pick up something at the shelter to eat. I believe they are having soup and bread. I apologize for asking too many questions. I suppose I am just curious. I was adopted myself so I know what it is like to be in their situation."

Freda furrows her brow at Loki. She's offering him a home-cooked meal, and he would rather eat at a shelter? "All right, if you'd rather do that," she replies, then turns her attention back to the boys and their game.

"I…" His face falls a bit and he stands up. "I should go. Thank you for your hospitality and kindness as always. I've taken up enough of your day and you have a party to prepare for." He bows his head to her and quickly slips out the door, moving to press his back against the outside wall and release a deep breath. "This is getting too strange."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License